


What a Way to Fall

by Kizuna_Tallis



Series: Falling and Rising [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Deconstruction, Eventual Happy Ending, Financial Crisis Gangbang, Five Stages of Grief, Forgiveness, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hetalia Kink Meme, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, No Romance, Other, Sibling Love, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-25 00:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1621838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kizuna_Tallis/pseuds/Kizuna_Tallis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for a prompt from the Hetalia Kink Meme: "After the Financial Crisis Gangbang, America is convinced the whole world hates him and everyone would be better off without him, and is thus driven to suicide. His attackers are forced to deal with the ugly consequences of their actions, while a new personification of the USA arises."</p><p>Basically, I absolutely despise the FCGB, and I feel the need to rectify it with a savage deconstruction. Sadness, grief, and mental anguish abound, but there is also an undercurrent of hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burying the Hatchet

"Alfred, are you absolutely positive you want to go through with this?" Matt asked apprehensively. It had been six months since The Incident, and he really didn't think facing  _them_  again so soon would be good for Alfred's still fragile psyche.

Alfred was insistent however, pressing, "Matt, I can't avoid them forever. I've skipped six months' worth of meetings for crying out loud; everyone's already suspicious. I have to do this."

Matt groaned, really not wanting to cave in. But Alfred was right to an extent. He would have to make sure things went as smoothly as possible.

"Well, here we are," Alfred announced as their car pulled up into the parking lot of the building the meeting would be held at. The North American brothers nodded and left their car.

When they entered the meeting room, the other Nations became abuzz with whispers, wondering what was going on, why the brothers skipped out on so many meetings. Alfred and Matt simply ignored the gossip and the inevitable questions, taking their seats, both just wanting to get this whole thing over with.

Matt let his gaze drift to nine specific Nations, and felt the rage boil inside, unable to believe they could go on so casually, as if they did no wrong. Like they hadn't just stabbed his brother in the back.

Humiliated and _raped_ him.

Alfred sensed this, and he grabbed Matt's wrist tightly, silently telling him to keep calm and carry on as if nothing was wrong.

The meeting had passed by without much incident, and Matt was pretty glad for that. He hadn't spoken to Katyusha for a while, and in her typical fashion asked him what was going on with Alfred. The excuse was that he had to take care of Alfred, who had been feeling ill due to the economy. She didn't question it much; everyone was feeling under the weather really. But Matt could tell that she could sense there was more to it than that. But he couldn't say anything, no matter how much he wanted to.

Out of the corner of his eye, Matt saw Feliciano approaching Alfred. The nerve of that spineless Italian wimp…

"Um, Alfred," Feliciano stammered, "can we talk?"

Alfred simply flinched back, a mixture of fear, anger and disgust on his face and Matt immediately rushed over to Alfred's rescue. He whispered that he would handle this, and Alfred nodded. Matt turned his attentions to the now very frightened Italian, his own rage clear.

"What were you saying to him, Italy?!" Matt asked through clenched teeth. His fists shook at his sides, and it took every last bit of self-restraint he possessed not to wrap his hands around Feliciano's worthless neck and strangle the life out of him.

Feliciano whimpered, "I was just going to say that I was sorry for what happened six months ago..."

Matt bitterly laughed.

"Oh really, you're sorry? Well then, answer this – why did you go along with it then? Because really, now is a little too late for apologies, bub," Matt venomously spat, glaring daggers at Feliciano.

Before Feliciano could say anything else, Matt quickly added, "Or you know what, just forget I said anything. I'll be sure to pass on the message over to Alfred, and that is if he ever _does_ get better."

With that, the brothers left, neither wanting anymore trouble. But Matt could hear them, and it only added to his anger.

"Oh, you know how he is, always overreacts to everything," Arthur shrugged.

"Don't take it personally, Feliciano," Ludwig said gently, reassuring him. "They clearly have no idea what's good for them."

"Whatever," Lovino snorted, "if you ask me, he's just playing up the whole "pity me" act anyway!"

Had it not been for Alfred dragging him along, Matt would've gone back there and torn them to pieces himself.

* * *

It wouldn't leave him alone.

No matter how much alcohol he drowned himself with, no matter how much he tried to put it behind him and be the bigger man, it would not leave him alone.

Damn them. Damn them all to the deepest pits of Hell. Nothing he ever did was ever good enough in their eyes. Sure, times were (and still are) tough, and his policies weren't perfect, but that gave no excuse for what they did.

Sometimes, Alfred wondered why he even put up with the other Nations, anyway. They never liked anything he did of his own volition, and when things go bad they always expect him to just rush in and make everything magically better. And if he decided not to go in and clean up a mess he had no hand in, they would be furious with him, forgetting that in any other circumstance they would have been outraged if he had intervened.

Even taking into account their previous behavior, he never once thought them capable of this kind of brutality. He always liked to believe in the best of everyone, but clearly he was just a stupid and naïve fool.

It wouldn't leave him alone, the events of that day playing and replaying in his mind with frightening clarity, every second of it.

It never ended. Just going and going and going and going and going...

And then, when he finally mustered the courage to go back to the meetings and face them again, they just continued to go on as if they did nothing wrong. Like he and Matt were the ones with a problem and they were just overreacting. Like he had no reason to feel just a little hurt.

And so it came to this.

If they really hated him so much, if all he ever did was fuck up everything in their eyes, then they would all be happier and better off without him around. It was a hero's duty to sacrifice themselves for the greater good after all.

He wouldn't go without leaving something explaining why though. Alfred set a camera up on a tripod in the kitchen, explaining himself. And just for good measure call them out on what they did to him as well.

But it was emotionally exhausting, and Alfred couldn't help but sob pitifully as he detailed everything. He wore a white tank top to show them the cuts on his arms. Cutting himself actually helped to dull and distract from the pain, for a while.

After a few minutes letting himself go, Alfred collected himself and scrawled a message onto a notepad for Matt to read once he got home. He pushed it out of the way so it wouldn't get messed up by what Alfred dubbed the grand finale.

"So yeah," Alfred sniffled, "this is it. No turning back now. I didn't come to this decision immediately or lightly. It's been a long time coming actually, and I figure I've lost enough of what I once stood for to do this."

His voice broke even more as he choked back sobs. "I'm just so sick of it. I'm sick of the pain, the nightmares, facing you, and knowing how much of a failure I really am. Just please promise me at the very least that if there's another personification of the United States of America when I'm gone, don't be too hard on them. Okay?"

Alfred reached for the simple black handgun. Nothing more dramatic than going out with a literal bang and a splatter of blood, plus guns were much more reliable and deadlier. He placed the barrel against his temple, smiled, flicked the safety off, pulled the trigger and let the sweet abyss swallow him.

Just a few minutes later, Matt came back home, only to be greeted by the sight of Alfred dead, and blood, brains and bone fragments splattered everywhere. And between his horrified screams, grief-filled sobs and his seething rage, Matt found the camera and it was still recording everything, as well as Alfred's message to him written on a notepad.

_Show this to everyone._

And Matt knew what he had to do now.


	2. The Comedown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canada has more than a few words for his former friends and family concerning a death in the family...

_One month after Alfred's suicide..._

The air in the room was tense. Everyone was on edge, and it was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop on the carpet. They had had nothing to say.

All nine Nations that were involved in The Incident sat around a mahogany table, not sure what was going to happen. They just knew Canada was coming, and he was a few minutes late. Arthur wondered if Matthew was doing this deliberately, to draw out their anxiety.

Suddenly the doors swung open. Matt stormed in, his steps frantic and he was absolutely livid.

In all honesty, Arthur did not blame the boy.

"I think you all have a pretty good idea why I called only you to this little meeting, eh?" Matt asked sharply. He didn't even bother attempting to sound polite or calm.

They all knew why. But they had no way of being able to say it. Finally, Francis broke the silence.

"Mathieu, you knew that Alfred –"

Matt angrily interrupted, "I knew that Alfred was going to be scolded for causing the recession and you were going to tell him to shape up and fix it. What I didn't know was that you would do... _that_ to him!"

Despite his best efforts, tears began to trickle down Matt's face as he rambled on. "I could've prevented all of this. If I had just come with him, if I'd been a little more assertive, if I had just grabbed his arm a little tighter and told him I had a bad feeling about all this..."

Kiku tried to diffuse the situation, his tone calm as usual. "Williams-san, please be reasonable."

He realized immediately he touched a nerve, and Matt flew off the handle.

" **NO**! I! WILL! NOT!" Matt screamed. The rage that he had kept bottled up inside finally exploded like a volcano, destroying everything in its path. Everyone cringed in their seats, knowing Matt could be a really frightening force to be reckoned with when he put his mind to it. His cunning on the hockey field proved that. But this rage was much more primal; much deeper.

And it was completely and utterly justified.

That didn't mean they were any less scared for their own skins.

"I don't see why _I_ should be reasonable, when you sure as fuck weren't! If you can name one, just  _one_  reasonable justification for your actions, then I would love to hear it!"

Feliciano curled into a frightened fetal position, while Yao simply buried his face in his hands, and Gilbert's eyes darted around, looking for any escape.

Matt seethed, "Don't tell me to be reasonable. I mean, really, after everything Alfred did for you guys in the past, despite his mistakes, it wasn't good enough for you. But you know what the worst part about this is? Do you?!"

Matt took their silence as a yes, and continued, "Alfred killed himself not because it hurt too much to go on, but because he really honestly believed you all hated him. He thought he was nothing but a failure and an idiot that you would be happier and better off without. And the thought of committing suicide with the belief that your whole life was a fuck up is bad enough on its own without applying it to someone like Alfred. And he was always into those heroic stories and all that stuff so much so, that he really hoped his own story would end happily too."

He then held up a DVD for all of them to see and continued, "And you know something else?  _This_  right here wasn't even the first suicide attempt Alfred made since that day. This just happened to be the one that ended successfully. And you know why? Because you all continued to go on as though you did nothing wrong, and like Alfred himself was the one with a problem. That was the last straw for him."

Ivan stammered, "But... the economy... the stocks were getting better a couple months ago." His voice was broken and his usual borderline insanity now replaced with something that seemed to resemble... regret.

Matt's eyes dangerously narrowed, his rage more focused. "You still honestly have no clue what you've really caused, huh, Braginsky? Well, let me tell you what wasn't detailed on this recording. Several nights over those six months, I would wake Alfred up from a nightmare about that day and I would hold him as he cried, sing him to sleep, and stay by his side the rest of the night. I've lost count of the number of times I've seen him passed out in the bathroom or in a puddle of vomit, because he drank himself to a stupor the night before, trying to dull the pain of the damage you helped to cause. I've had to keep my eye on him all the time to make sure he wouldn't do something to harm himself, feeling paranoid every single day. I would look into his eyes, broken and blank, seeing and knowing that he didn't trust anyone... he could barely even trust  _me_. I tried – no; I did my absolute fucking hardest to take care of him. Clearly, my best wasn't good enough."

Arthur swallowed vomit. It was painful enough to hear Alfred on that tape that horrible day when Matthew broadcast it for every Nation to see at that fateful meeting exactly one month ago. It was even worse to hear this, to hear from Matthew just the true extent of the damage he helped to cause. And literally feel the horrible truth sink in.

He was a hypocrite and a monster.

Matt continued, "Know this, all of you. Many of the Nations, when they found out, wanted nothing more than to grab the nearest weapon they had and give you all a taste of your own medicine. But that would mean declaring war, and we can't do that because this doesn't actually affect the people. But most of all is that unlike any of you, I'm a man of my word and I honored Alfred's request not to let that happen."

Everyone's eyes widened.

"Yeah, that's right," Matt spat viciously, "Alfred, the very same one you humiliated and raped for an insignificant _recession_ , the only one with every good right and reason to take any revenge on you, pleaded with me in a personal final letter not to let the others hurt any of you. He wrote that it was because he didn't think he was worth it, that his life should be avenged, and he didn't want to cause more trouble."

That was a bombshell in itself. Sure, Alfred wasn't a vengeful person, but he wasn't a doormat. Had they really broken him to such a point?

_Yes. You did._

"If we were humans, I would ignore Alfred's last request. I'd be in a police station right now actually, reporting you and prosecuting you, looking to put you all behind bars for life, or put to death. Because what you did was unacceptable and unforgiveable," Matt snarled.

Feliciano sobbed, "I tried to apologize though! I didn't even want to hurt Alfred in the first place!"

Matt's gaze drifted towards the North Italy personification, the contempt in his features softening just enough to allow something else to come through - disappointment.

Matt simply sighed and responded, "Think for yourself next time, Feliciano."

With that, Feliciano quickly became a sobbing mess, and the others could only silently stare at their hands, their shoes, or the carpet; unable to face Matt, each other, and most of all, themselves.

In a resigned and bitter tone, Matt said, "But I can't ever give my brother justice, because we're Nations, and things just aren't that simple. We have people to serve and jobs to do. There's no proof to give to your bosses and we've never killed a Nation before for their atrocities – even if they  _did_  arguably deserve it."

As Matt said this, his glare returned to one of blistering scorn, drifting towards Ludwig, Kiku and Ivan, who visibly flinched under his scrutinizing gaze. He could've shot daggers right at them if possible.

No one protested or tried to make excuses. They had nothing.

"But we can show you and remind you of your crimes. None of you are personally welcome. Since you're still too important, the other Nations and I will continue to maintain our diplomatic and economic ties with you, and we'll treat your people and bosses with respect, but none of you are our friends anymore. It's not a lot, but it is something."

He decided to conclude things.

"You know, Alfred and I did have our differences. I'll be the first to admit that we didn't always get along with each other. However, he was still my brother, and the only blood family I knew I had in this world. Just think about that for a minute and then  _maybe_  you will have some idea of just how much pain I am in right now. I just want to be able to grieve without being reminded of  _why_. But that's impossible, because every day, I have look at myself in the mirror, and know that it's my fault that this happened."

Matt looked over each of them, and he couldn't help but feel a smug, albeit somewhat hollow sense of satisfaction at their shame.

"None of you are looking very well," he sarcastically snorted. "Well golly gee gosh, I wonder  _why_."

And with that, Matt stormed out, slamming the door so hard he could have smashed it right off the handles.

Things were silent again until Lovino was the first to burst out.

"You!" he screamed, pointing at Ivan. "This is all your fault! If you hadn't been so horrible, he never would've done this!"

Ivan stood up, incredulous at Lovino's accusation, firing back, "Oh, so _I'm_ the only one to blame?! Look who's talking! You were the one who was egging on Francis with taking those pictures!"

Lovino and Ivan's spat seemed to awaken something nasty, and it didn't take long for things to escalate. The whole room devolved into a storm of defensive statements, several Nations playing the blame game on each other, and one pair even wrestling each other to the floor.

Arthur had enough and he climbed on top of the table and screamed, "Shut up! All of you shut the bloody fuck up, right now!"

When things quieted down, Arthur ranted on, "Honestly, have you forgotten what it means to be civilized? This is all of our faults! Everything! Up to and including the financial crisis that got us here in the first place!"

Arthur then collapsed, curled up into a ball and shaking as he quietly cried tears of rage. And they could all see it now.

They were all too stubborn to admit responsibility, to admit their own faults. So they found their perfect scapegoat with Alfred. Sure, he wasn't perfect, and his mistakes might have hurt them, but it wasn't like he meant for this to happen, for things to get so bad. And he always believed in the best of everyone, and he trusted them with his life.

And they destroyed every last bit of that trust like it meant nothing to them.

Living with the fact that they drove Alfred to  _this_  and knowing they would never be able to right their wrongs was their own punishment.

And it was something Arthur, Francis, Feliciano, Lovino, Ludwig, Gilbert, Kiku, Yao and Ivan would all have to live with for the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite chapters to write. Angry Canada is always fun, and he's perfectly and totally justified.
> 
> And this was also posted on Fanfiction.Net, and I've had a beta-reader from there, but I haven't heard anything from her for quite a while. I'd always appreciate another helper; more the merrier! :) Just give me a private message and I can provide Google Doc links and stuff for future chapters.


	3. Stages: Prelude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It eats away at them, little by little, every day...

_In psychology, there is a model known as the Five Stages of Grief. It describes the grieving process a person goes through when faced with a loss or some other life-changing event for the worse. It begins with denial, giving way to anger, followed by bargaining, then despair, and finally acceptance. The steps don't always go in that order, but it illustrates a simple truth, grief is no walk in the park._

* * *

 

If Matt had to describe the pain he was in right now, it would be like a dull and constantly throbbing ache that he would just have to learn to live with now.

Everything was just so uncertain now too. What would happen to the United States without a personification? Could he even be able to pick up the pieces his brother left behind?

Could he even be able to live with himself?

Matt washed his face, and looked at himself in the mirror. He really didn't like to now, since his own face just reminded him too much of Alfred's. So similar looking...

He just wished and hoped that this was all just a bad dream, and Alfred was still alive, and The Nine never raped and humiliated poor Alfred, and Matt himself still trusted Arthur and Francis, and none of this would be happening!

He had to stop himself from punching his own reflection.   


Tomorrow was going to be a big day, and Matt would need to be as well-rested as possible. He hit the pillow and let his sleep lull him in.

_"Help me!"_

_Matt looked around wondering where the voice was coming from._

_"Help me! Please!"_

_It sounded like a little girl! Matt saw the stairway before him, and it looked like it was just going on forever. But he just knew somehow that he had to find that child. He didn't know why he felt the compulsion, but it was there, and he started running._

_There seemed to be no end in sight, and the girl's crying and pleas for help only became louder and more desperate. And yet, Matt kept running._

_Finally, he reached a door, and everything became eerily quiet. With shaking hands, Matt opened the double doors, and was immediately sickened and horrified by what he saw next._

_A young girl was curled up into a fetal position, sobbing, covered in white fluids and blood, and her clothes were crudely torn. She then looked at Matt._

_And she said, "You promised him..."_

Matt awoke with a start, feeling more than a little green around the gills. He clutched his chest, trying to steady himself with several deep breaths. He checked his alarm clock, seeing he had about twenty minutes before it was supposed to go off. He had a craving for a certain something. Not food, but rather, a different cure.

Matt went out back in the patio, took out a lighter and a cigarette, and lit up. Ever since Alfred's death, he went through at least half a pack every day. It helped to calm his nerves a bit and a little quiet time to think as well. And being a Nation, he wouldn't get cancer from it either. Coffee (or anything with caffeine in it really) was also badly needed right now too.

Matt's mind couldn't help but go back to that nightmare though. Why was he seeing visions of a little girl? And more importantly, who was she?

* * *

The trip back home was like hell for Arthur. In between pretending like nothing was wrong and the intense worry he had for what would go on in the future (no doubt many of his former friends and other Nations he once considered family would shun him entirely), he was utterly exhausted.

He swallowed his pride, something he was pretty adept at, and soldiered on nonetheless.

As soon as he was home, Arthur hit the sack, and sleep overtook him very easily.

_Arthur shivered in the snow covered landscape. The chill overtook him. It was more than just the regular cold he felt when it was chilly out. No, this cold penetrated his bones, his heart, left him feeling awful._

_And then there the only sound he could hear. A little girl sobbing her eyes out. She sounded genuinely miserable. He couldn't help but want to find her._

_Arthur finally found her. She had light brown hair, and wore a white coat, pants and shoes, and she was curled into a fetal position, just continuously crying. It was just heartbreaking to watch, and Arthur couldn't help but reach out to her._

_"There now, it's going to be fine."_

_As soon as she saw him, she screamed in horror and backed away, yelling, "No! Get away from me!"_

_Arthur reassured her, "I'm not going to hurt you!"_

_But she didn't believe him. She shook her head wildly and responded, "No, you're lying! I know you are! You're going to hurt me, just like you hurt him!"_

_She was pointing to something, and when Arthur turned around, a wave of nausea hit him. There was Alfred, clothes torn up, red and white stains all over his body, and the words "guilty" and "slut" written over his forehead and chest, respectively. He clutched a gun in one hand._

_"I didn't mean to," Alfred choked out, sobbing, as he placed the barrel against his head and pulled the trigger._

_Arthur screamed, and desperately ran towards Alfred to grab him and tell him he was sorry, that he was wrong, something, anything, but as soon as the body hit his arms, it dissolved away into dust._

_Arthur again screamed in pain and horror, crying as he punched the ground underneath him. He really felt guilty, he really was sorry. Would this sin ever be washed from his hands?_

_He turned around and gasped when he saw the little girl, glaring at him with nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred. If looks could kill, Arthur would be brutally maimed and tortured before she finished the job herself._

_The little girl then snarled, "A real man does not go back on his word, Arthur! You promised him that you would be there for him, look after him and protect him! You called him your best friend, and the person you loved more than anything in this world! And you broke your promise! You turned your back on him! You killed him!"_

_"There were the others!" Arthur immediately blurted out. "It wasn't just me!"_

_The girl just replied, "But he loved you! You just **had** to rub it in, twist the knife a little more, because you are just that full of shit."_

_Arthur was taken aback by her. Despite her size, she looked truly threatening and her blue eyes blazed with a desire to utterly destroy him. She walked towards him, and for every step she took forward, Arthur took one back. Why was he letting this child intimidate him like this?_

_Arthur then realized she had him cornered. He stood right at the edge of a very steep looking cliff. Arthur had to deter her somehow._

_"I know what I did was wrong! I know! I'm sorry! I really am! Please, you have to believe me! I would do anything to undo all this!!"_

_The girl's face only twisted in more disgust, as she sharply replied, "Oh really? You're sorry? You had six months to realize what you did was cruel and uncalled for. It wasn't until Alfred died that you did!"_

_Before Arthur could say or do anything else in his defense, the girl suddenly shoved him off the cliff. And as he fell, he could still hear her taunts ringing loud and clear._

_"Liar! Murderer! Rapist!" she screamed._

_Before he hit the ground, reality set in._

Arthur's eyes snapped open and he bolted up from his bed, feeling a hard punch of nausea in his gut. He ran to the bathroom and barely made it there in time to heave what little was in his stomach.

He had nightmares before, but this was in a class all of its own. And between Alfred and that little girl, he didn't think that was a nightmare he would forget anytime soon.

But who was she? Why was she there? Why did she have such a personal hatred of him?

Could it be...?

* * *

Francis didn't expect to sleep well tonight. Every part of his body worked against him – the nausea, the mind-crushing guilt, grief...

But he tried nonetheless.

_Francis woke to find himself in a dark and dingy place. It stank of mildew and that characteristic dungeon smell. His own clothes were tattered and stained with filth. And they looked old, something from centuries ago._

_Suddenly, two burly and menacing figures kicked the door open. They didn't bother with the courtesies, unceremoniously grabbing Francis by his arms and dragging him out, ignoring his protests._

_"What is the meaning of this?!" he cried out. "I'm your nation, for Christ's sake!"_

_"You don't deserve any love or loyalty, you backstabbing insect," one of the men spat viciously._

_As they dragged him along, Francis saw a sight that still ran a chill up his spine to the present day. Crowds of ragged looking peasants booed and jeered at him, clearing a path as the men escorted him to an all too familiar icon of his darkest period in history._

_A guillotine._

_And at the blade were four figures, three of whom he recognized._

_"Jeanne?" he asked with bewilderment._

_To say she was angry would be an understatement. Standing next to her was Alfred, looking just as he did when they had finished their horrific violation of him that fateful day. And there was Matthew, who looked on with nothing but shame and hatred. And the fourth figure was the most confusing._

_A young girl with light brown hair and blue eyes glared him down with a rather psychotic smirk on her face. As Francis was forcibly put on the guillotine's platform, he did what everyone said he did best – beg._

_"Jeanne, please tell me what is going on?!"_

_She replied in an uncharacteristically vicious tone, "I gave my life, honor and dignity for you, sacrificed it all so that you could have a future. And you squandered it away when you destroyed the trust these innocent souls had for you."_

_She pointed towards Alfred, whose dead-eyed gaze pierced into Francis, and Matthew, who took a scroll from his pocket._

_Francis was desperate, screaming, "Jeanne, please understand it was for the greater good!"_

_"What good would've come from doing a deed so evil that even the Devil himself would want nothing to do with you?!" she asked angrily, tears flowing freely from her eyes. "I will be taking the poor child you violated to God's kingdom, where he will be safe from the likes of you."_

_She then took Alfred into her warm embrace, and together, they were engulfed in a pillar of light, ascending to the skies above. And as they disappeared, Francis felt a sudden cold emptiness take hold in his being, indicating Joan had abandoned him._

_The little girl spat, "Serves you right."_

_Matthew began to read from the scroll, "Francis Bonnefoy, you've been found guilty on counts of rape, murder, and betrayal. For your crimes, you will be executed. Proceed."_

_"Mathieu, please!" Francis pleaded, "I never meant for this to happen! Please, listen to me!"_

_But he shut Francis away, and the little girl took hold of the rope holding the blade up. The crowd's cheers grew louder._

_The girl then asked, "What is it about money troubles that make men lose their heads anyway?"_

_She then pulled down, releasing the blade._

_Before it could cut Francis' throat, reality set in._

"NON!"

Francis woke with a start, and his hands reflexively went towards his neck, desperate to make sure his head was still attached to his body.

After he was convinced he wasn't dreaming anymore, he fell back into his bed, taking several deep breaths to calm himself, trying to process everything. He still felt that emptiness in his heart. Joan really had turned her back on him.

And the vision of Matthew, so coldly allowing for his execution, was another sign that he was alone now.

And the little girl...

He didn't know what significance she held, but he knew she couldn't have been there without a reason. Could she be...?

* * *

Feliciano didn't know what to do anymore. Sure, he felt a lot of guilt over his contribution to the events of the last few months, and grief over Alfred's death. But what could he do about it? He was just weak little old useless Italy. A joke.

He slumped into his bed, hoping to calm himself and maybe tomorrow would be better.

Maybe.

_Feliciano had to blink several times to adjust his eyes to the bright spotlight that shone right on him. The opera was in full swing, and immediately stage fright took over him. What were his lines? What was he supposed to do? Hell, was he even supposed to be here?_

_Another spotlight came on, focusing on something else. From a bunch of pulleys, suspended in the air, was none other than Alfred. He wore a tattered white tunic and white pants, covered in blood. And then, he started to sing._

_"Once, a long time ago,_  
There lived a little bird,  
He had friends, he had it all,  
And then they took it all away.  
Ripped asunder,  
Torn to pieces,  
All his love and all his pride,  
No room for forgiveness,  
Only sorrows, only the darkness  
Left behind under their boots."

_Feliciano fell to his knees, and despite every apology wanting to jump from his throat to Alfred's ears, he remained silent as tears ran down his face._

_"Dragged into the dirt,_  
And all they wonder is,  
Why did this happen?  
And all I say is,  
I would rather be  
DEAD!"

_And then, Alfred grabbed two of prop daggers from the belt of his tunic, and in one swift motion, plunged them right into his eyes. At the same time, the ropes holding him up broke, and with a sickening crack, he landed on the wooden floor._

_Immediately Feliciano ran to Alfred's side, screaming in horror and sadness. He didn't know any medical procedures and turned to the audience._

_"Someone, anyone, call an ambulance! Is there a doctor here?! Please, he needs help!"_

_But not one member of the audience budged or even took out their phones, even as blood pooled around Alfred's still twitching body. It was as if they were treating this like it was really all part of the show._

_Suddenly, from stage left, a young girl wearing white robes, surrounded by a choir, began to sing._

_"Look at him,_  
This little clown,  
This little weakling,  
So stupid, so gullible,  
What a perfect little fool he makes.  
A doormat,  
Covered in footprints and tracks  
Look at him,  
This stupid clown."

_Feliciano felt something rise within him. An ugly side of him that hardly anyone ever saw. That part of him that managed to beat up Turkey as a child, that part of him that allied with Germany and Japan during World War II. A horrible, primitive rage overtook him and before he knew it, he lunged out at the girl, grabbing her by her neck and lifting her into the air with surprising strength._

_"No!" he screamed, "I am not stupid! I'm no one's fool! I'm not..."_

_And then, out of the corner of his eye, Feliciano saw a mirror, and his reflection. He was horrified by what he saw. He was dressed up in the outfit of a court jester, with the brightest and gaudiest colors imaginable. His face painted white, lips red and blue circles around his eyes. And the top half of his outfit was open to expose a bit of his chest, and written across it was a single word._

_Doormat._

_"No, no, I'm not a doormat!" Feliciano cried, sobbing as he let go of the girl's throat, stumbled back, and fell to his knees, desperately trying to wipe the paint from his face. But it wouldn't go. It was as though it was tattooed into his skin, and though he tried to claw it right off, his face was still colored like a clown's, the word still exhibited clearly on his chest._

_Meanwhile, the little girl, audience and the other actors circled around him like ravenous vultures, and began to laugh at him. Not just that, but he also saw his fellow nations among them too. Ludwig, Lovino, Antonio, and many others he called friends and family (even Grandpa Rome!) looked down on his defeated form, pointing at him, insulting him, finding his pain so funny, **laughing** at him. Hell, Alfred's mangled corpse showed up, somehow able to join in despite his jaw looking unhinged from his head. Feliciano could feel their condescending laughter vibrating in his bones, a shrill chorus of never-ending humiliation. And worst of all, Feliciano knew it was justified; he deserved no sympathy._

_"How about thinking for yourself every once in a while, doormat?" the little girl asked viciously._

_And with that, the music ended, the lights went out, and the curtain closed._

Feliciano's eyes snapped open and he gasped desperately, trying to confirm to himself that he was back in reality. No malicious opera patrons. No dead bodies. No demonic little girl. He wasn't sure if it was from the lingering pain of the nightmare, or utter relief that it wasn't real, or a mixture of both, but he couldn't help but cry.

That little girl wasn't actually a demon. She was simply disgusted with him, and for good reason. But why was her disgust of him on such a personal level?

He didn't know, and since there was no way he could get back to sleep after that nightmare, he decided to just stay awake.

* * *

Lovino sullenly went about the day trying to get through all of this. But between the fallout and Antonio cutting off all ties with him, he found no enjoyment in any of his usual hobbies. Nothing could take his mind off of this.

In hindsight, sleep shouldn't have been any different.

_Lovino walked around the destroyed city, horrified at the carnage all around him. Burning buildings, corpses littering the streets, destroyed property. It was almost too much to take in._

_He couldn't help but feel like he was being watched. He turned around, and found her._

_A young girl, couldn't have been any older than ten years old, stood in the middle of the street, curiously unaffected by what was happening, just stared at him._

_She looked ordinary as day, with short light brown hair, creamy beige skin, and wearing an outfit of white pants, a shirt and slippers. But what got him were her eyes, a blazing and familiar shade of blue that bore into him, piercing and gazing straight into his soul._

_Her voice held an unmistakable American accent. She simply said, "I see you for who you are, Lovino Vargas. You're nothing but a petty little manchild who pushes everyone that gave a damn about you away with your obnoxious whining. You never even care to think maybe the reason no one likes you is because you're a stupid little brat that your great grandfather would be utterly ashamed of. You hurt an innocent just because it made you feel so big and strong and important. I know you very well, Lovino. And your soul is damned into the darkest pits of Hell itself. Even Dante would shudder at your punishment."_

_Lovino angrily asked her, "What do you know, you little brat?You have no right to talk to me like that!"_

_As if on cue, every corpse on the street suddenly was reanimated, groaning in pain as they shambled and struggled to get up. They all began to walk towards Lovino, clearly intent on doing something to him._

_"No! No, get away from me!" Lovino cried out in fear as he tried to run away. But when he turned a corner, there were even more of them – undead legions from the pits of Hell itself, all of whom were out for his blood._

_And leading them was Alfred._

_He was in a similar state – his body was just starting to show signs of decay, and he was continuously vomiting blood._

_Lovino was scared stiff and it didn't take long for the hordes to overwhelm him. They all restrained Lovino, being surprisingly strong for being shambling, reanimated corpses. They viciously slammed him into_ _something all too familiar for him, and_ _began to nail Lovino's feet and wrists to the sides._

_As the cross was raised upright, Lovino was even more frightened. This perversion of the Lord's sacrifice offended his Catholic sensibilities, but that was the least of Lovino's worries, as the hordes began to boo and jeer at him, throwing various objects at him. Rotten food, garbage and even human feces were among those items getting tossed at him._

_"Heathen!"_

_"Rapist!"_

_"You call yourself a Christian?!"_

_Alfred then walked up to him, looked at him, and began to spew blood out with such force, he drenched Lovino. But this was no ordinary blood. It was hot and burned through Lovino's clothes and skin like acid. He screamed in pain, begging for forgiveness, for leniency, anything._

_But he knew he didn't deserve it._

_Alfred and the girl then both smirked and said in unison, "This is only the beginning, Lovi."_

_And then, a portal in the ground appeared under Lovino. A portal to a pit of fiery torment sucked him in to punish him. Forever and ever._

Lovino immediately shot up out of bed, shaken to the core. He angrily shook his head, trying to get the nightmare out of his mind. But it was no ordinary nightmare; this was something truly in a league of its own.

He didn't want to and certainly couldn't go to sleep again. Not after that horrifying trip. He stomped down the steps to the kitchen to brew up a strong cup of black coffee, along with some pain relievers for his migraine. It would probably wreak havoc on his stomach later but he didn't care at this point.

As Lovino waited for the coffee maker to finish up, the phone began to ring. Lovino almost jumped out of his skin, the obnoxiously loud noise having startled him and only worsening his headache. He angrily picked up.

"Ok, whoever you are, you have five seconds to explain why you're calling this early!" Lovino snapped.

The other side of the conversation was filled with blubbering sobs, and a familiar voice. Feliciano.

"Oh fratello, it was horrible!" Feliciano cried. "I was trying to sleep, but then I had this horrible nightmare. It was the worst thing ever. I felt like it was my own personal Hell or something!"

Lovino's eyes widened.

"Are you serious?!" he asked, curiosity piqued. "I had one too!"

It was now Feliciano's turn to be surprised. Both of them having horrible nightmares, on the same night no less? It couldn't have just been coincidental. He figured it was a long shot, but asked his question nonetheless.

"Did you happen to see Alfred, and a little girl in there too?"

Lovino slowly answered, "Yes. Both of them. Did she have brown hair and blue eyes?"

"Yes!" Feliciano replied, happy to know he at least hadn't gone crazy.

After some time, the Italian brothers had finished explaining their nightmares to each other. However, Lovino couldn't help but feel a little angry with Feliciano again.

"Seriously, fratello, you're crying over being laughed at during some bastardization of Pigliaccio?! I was crucified by zombies, had shit thrown at me, got vomited on, and then dragged into Hell! You had a cakewalk!"

Feliciano cried again, "But it was horrible! That girl just made me so angry! You know me – I never get mad! But she pushed me to do something that scared me!"

Lovino groaned as he chugged a second cup of coffee. Aside from Feliciano's incessant blubbering and the nightmare, he also had a nagging feeling this was only a preview for what was to come.

What it was though, he had no idea. And it frightened him.

* * *

Ludwig was not a robot like Feliciano jokingly called him, but he did his best anyway to swallow the guilt and grief over what he did all those months ago. He was still a man of routine though and as he crawled into bed, hoping to get a solid eight hours of sleep, he tried to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him nothing would ever be the same anymore.

_Ludwig felt cold._

_The building looked abandoned, unkempt and gave off a feeling of utter dread. He couldn't see the outside. Just a long hallway, with several doors lined over it. He tried to enter a few, but they were all locked. He couldn't help but get the feeling that maybe the one at the end of the hallway would be open._

_He entered._

_It looked like a morgue. Several dead bodies were neatly laid out on the tables, covered in a plastic wrap, and a disgusting stench of decay hung through the air that even the ventilation system couldn't completely filter away._

_A single table with a body covered by a sheet sat right in the center, and against his better judgment, Ludwig walked towards it, the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach growing stronger and making him ill._

_With a shaking hand he pulled the cover off._

_It was indeed Alfred, lying there dead as a doornail. The wound in his head was still there, staining his hair red, and his skin was deathly pale and greyish. But what unnerved Ludwig the most was how utterly serene Alfred's expression was._

_Suddenly, Alfred's eyes snapped open and he began to smirk. Ludwig stumbled back in shock as Alfred sat up and stretched his arms. He looked straight into Ludwig's eyes and laughed._

_"Yes, Ludwig, it's me. I'm dead, just like the rest of them. But then again, when you have the blood of 11 million innocents on your hands, what am I but just a drop in the ocean you've made?"_

_Ludwig retorted, "I know what I did was wrong! I've done everything to atone for it! I know what I did and I'm sorry! We all make mistakes; why can't mine be forgiven?!"_

_A new voice, completely alien to Ludwig interjected, "Because you still haven't learned anything."_

_He turned around to see a girl with light brown hair and blue eyes standing before him, her face etched in disapproval. She couldn't have been older than 12 years of age, but she gave off an aura that made her seem older than that._

_"So, Ludwig," Alfred hissed, "if you're really so sorry, then how about you tell that to the people you've wronged in the past?"_

_Suddenly, every dead body in the morgue reanimated itself, coming right for Ludwig. He immediately began running, pushing the girl out of the way in the process. He desperately tried to get out of the building, but found that outside was even worse._

_Millions of people, as far as the eye could see, were all chanting, "We want Ludwig," over and over again. Some looked like Alfred, corpse-like. Others looked like ghosts, and then there were normal humans, carrying torches and pitchforks. They clearly wanted the one same thing._

_Retribution._

_"Please," Ludwig pleaded, "I'm sorry! I didn't realize what I was doing! I was just following orders!"_

_An old man replied, "And because of that, I lost my entire family."_

_The ghost of a little girl added, "I was killed before I could even fulfill my dreams."_

_The walking corpse of a woman asked, "How can you even sleep at night with so much blood on your hands?"_

_Another corpse, a young man, taunted, "Hey Nazi, let's see that salute! I bet you'd bend over your desk and let the Fueher fuck you up the ass if he told you! Oh, wait, he wouldn't because homosexuals were also persecuted!"_

_As the hordes closed in on him, the last thing he saw was Alfred and the little girl leading them._

_The girl said, "Guilt is not an adequate apology. You can apologize all you want, but when the damage is already done, there is nothing you can do to ever fully make up for it."_

_She then took a large metal rod with backward letters on its end. It was steaming and red hot, as she pressed it against his forehead while several people restrained him. He screamed in pain as the searing branding iron burned his flesh. And yet, all he could hear was cheering from the hordes as he writhed in intense pain._

_As he looked into a mirror provided for him, the word NAZI was spelled out over his forehead. Like the mark of Cain, it would always be there to remind him of his sins._

_"Your mistakes will always be there, Ludwig. Whether you'll learn from them or not is your choice, and you alone will suffer the consequences."_

Ludwig woke up with a shock, right after thrashing around in his bed and clawing at himself. He quickly turned the light on to see red scratch marks all over himself from where he tried to shake off his attackers, where that little girl branded him with the heated metal like an animal.

An animal...

He felt sick to his stomach, as the vicious taunts of the crowds from his nightmare and from former friends went over in his mind over and over, until he couldn't hold it in anymore. He grabbed a nearby trash bin and emptied the contents of his stomach, trying to block the voices from his head. But it was impossible.

The girl, whoever or whatever she was, was right. His sins and mistakes would always be there, and he really had learned nothing at all.

* * *

Gilbert simply brushed off everything. Or at least he tried to. Yeah, being called out by Matt for his part in the incident wasn't fun, but it wasn't like it was his own idea. And he had years on that brat (who was probably now secretly rejoicing at being noticed for once). He wasn't worried.

He tried to ignore that nagging feeling in his gut that said he should be.

_It was nighttime, but Gilbert could still see the sky illuminated by the eerie orange and red glow of flames. The fire engulfed an entire city, and Gilbert only then noticed that he was wearing his armor. It quickly dawned on him what was going on. This here was a particularly ugly period of Europe's history._

_The Crusades._

_Gilbert ran as fast as his legs (no longer used to carrying the heavy armor) could go. He didn't know where, but he didn't like the feel of this place. He felt it in the air; a sense of darkness, foreboding._

_As if out of nowhere, a young girl with brown hair appeared before him. She wore a simple white dress that flowed eerily in the wind, making her look like a ghost. Despite himself, Gilbert reached out to her._

_"Hey, kid, we need to get out of here! The war is no place for you!"_

_But the girl's expression merely soured as she looked at Gilbert with contempt. She said, "Why should I go along with you? All you know is how to hurt, destroy and kill!"_

_Gilbert indignantly retorted, "Watch your mouth, you little brat! I'm the great and awesome Prussia, and you better learn some respect!"_

_But the girl only shook her head, her face now taking on a bemused grin. She replied, "How ironic. I was about to tell you that you're the one who should learn some respect. Because you've done nothing to earn any from me with what you did, all that time ago."_

_As soon as she said this, another, all too familiar figure from Gilbert's history appeared. An imposing monarch with white hair and wearing an elaborate royal blue coat decorated with medals and other accessories stood in front of Gilbert, with a look of utter disappointment._

_"Old Fritz?!" Gilbert asked, shocked._

_"That's King Frederick to you, monster," the great monarch scolded. "What have you done, Gilbert? Why did you tarnish the name of the good people of Prussia by your atrocities?"_

_"It was for the greater good!" Gilbert blurted out, yet he knew this excuse wouldn't fly._

_"The greater good? What good comes from humiliation and robbing a man of his very dignity?! You don't deserve this title anymore, Gilbert. Words cannot even begin to describe how utterly disappointed I am in you," King Frederick venomously spat, as he reached towards Gilbert's neck, and tore the iron cross pendant from his neck._

_Gilbert felt like the world just shattered around him. Not helping matters was the fact that the young girl was now hysterically laughing at Gilbert's misfortune, singing maliciously taunting songs celebrating his downfall from grace. Tears began to water his eyes._

_"Aww, what's wrong?" the girl asked in a mockingly sweet tone. "Is little Gilbert crying?"_

_But before Gilbert could just slash her throat to make her shut up, a bony, partially decomposed hand clawed out from the ground, and grabbed Gilbert's ankle. He screamed and tried to escape but it was too strong, holding onto his leg as the hand's owner slowly clawed his way out of the ground._

_He came face-to-face with the last person he ever wanted to see. Alfred, who now looked partially decomposed, skin grey and peeling off, lips shriveled and dried. He smiled, revealing rotted teeth and black gums, and his voice raspy but still piercing Gilbert's heart._

_"Everyone dies Gilbert. Even awesome people like us will have kick the bucket eventually."_

"NO!" Gilbert screamed as he awoke. He immediately went to turn the lights on, hoping to God that he was awake and there wouldn't be any apparitions of scary girls, zombie Alfred or Old Fritz.

Old Fritz...

Gilbert wasn't sure if he should feel embarrassed or not. That appearance of the old king had to be just a figure in that dream, a metaphor for his guilty conscience.

Right?

But it felt way too real. He could feel a new emptiness within his being. He couldn't deny it no matter how much he wanted to – Old Fritz had every good reason in the world to be disappointed with him. He was alone, the nation he had embodied no more, his people no longer his anymore, and he simply mooched off his younger brother, barely really living. And then there was what he did seven months ago...

Old Fritz had abandoned him.

And he was frightened to the very core of his being.

_'What do I do now...?'_

* * *

Kiku really didn't feel tired so much as he was drained. He couldn't pin down why, but he felt nauseous and uncomfortable all over. He carried on with his day without a hair out of place though.

It was a mask, and one he have to get used to wearing for a long, long time.

It was one that even sleeping wouldn't allow for removal of.

_The entire house was very eerily silent. Kiku wasn't sure what to make of it. He usually liked having a calm quiet environment, but this was just chilling, scary even._

_Any small noise, be it a dripping faucet or the wind outside, was amplified and Kiku felt on edge. If this was a horror movie, he was sure a knife-wielding serial killer would pop out and stab him to death._

_How wrong he was to think it was **that**  kind of movie..._

_The television in the living room unexpectedly turned itself on. Kiku nearly jumped and gasped before walking towards it. The screen was static and it emitted the annoying white garbled noise. Kiku reached for the remote and desperately tried to turn it off. When that didn't work, he pushed the power button on the TV. That didn't work either. Finally, he grabbed the power cord and yanked it out of its electric socket._

_The TV was still going. The static was changed then, with a scene of a well in the middle of an open grassy field._

_He was now starting to get a very bad feeling about this._

_Like an all-too-familiar movie, a hand crawled out from the well, and the rest of its owner surfaced, and began walking towards the screen. Towards Kiku._

_Kiku, stumbled back, falling over a table as he desperately tried to crawl away from the screen, but he was also frozen in fear, and possibly even some outside force compelling him to stay here._

_The person in the TV started to emerge out from the box and Kiku, despite his honor and tendency to not be outwardly emotional, couldn't help but start begging._

_"Please," Kiku said, voice starting to shake, "don't do anything to me! I haven't done anything!"_

_Suddenly, a girl's voice, one he did not know, shot up from behind him._

_"Oh really?" she asked venomously. "I don't think he would agree."_

_Kiku looked at her, and she couldn't have been older than 12 years old, with her light brown hair and very familiar looking blue eyes. He then looked back at the figure that stood before him, and felt what could only be described as a punch to the stomach._

_In front of him was Alfred, who certainly looked far worse for the wear. He had dried blood and semen stains all over his body, which itself looked horribly decayed and rotten. His hair was dull and stringy, with a gaping hole in his head from where he shot himself. And when he opened his mouth to talk, it turned out some of his teeth fell out and were rotted like the rest of him, and his gums were black and bloody._

_"Tell me Kiku," Alfred said, "am I frightening?"_

_Kiku remained silent, at a loss for words. The girl laughed._

_"Come on Kiku," she said, "what's wrong? Cat got your tongue? Or do you just want to spare Alfred's feelings?"_

_Kiku replied, "No, it's not that, I just..."_

_Alfred bitterly said, "Come on, trying to spare my feelings? You know, being polite isn't the same as being nice. Now tell me the truth – do I scare you? Do I horrify and repulse you?"_

_Kiku didn't want to answer. Yes, Alfred was frightening and looked disgusting, being a walking corpse and all. But he couldn't say it. Something kept the words stuck in his throat._

_"That's the problem with you Kiku," the little girl spat. "You're so concerned with being 'polite' that you forget to be honest. If you'd just let Alfred know your concerns and worries and actually communicate, instead of **r**_ _**aping** _ _him, then he would still be alive."_

_Alfred's mouth twisted into a sick grin, his mouth almost looking too large for his decomposed face. He snarled, "And since you're so afraid to speak up, I'll make you a little present. A little reward for being sooo polite."_

_He snapped his fingers and immediately, Kiku felt his whole face start to tingle. First, his mouth started to feel numb and his lips began sticking together. He tried to scream. First he screamed in horror and pain, before he tried to apologize to Alfred, that he was wrong to do what he did, anything. But then the girl began to put a mask over his face. As if on cue, the wooden mask began to fuse with his skin, painfully._

_"Since you're so used to wearing masks in your plays and in public, we only thought it was fitting Kiku."_

_He desperately tried to tear it off but the mask practically embedded itself into his bones like some kind of tumor. He knew it was futile, but primal gut instincts overtook him as he kept trying to scream, but the mask was set in there so much so that it was now his new face._

_And his new face had no mouth._

Kiku awoke with a cough, feeling like he was suffocating. His heart rate had jumped to what felt like a thousand beats per minute, and he desperately tried to catch his breath. He steadied himself with several deep, calming breaths as he tried to push that horrifying nightmare out of his mind.

He touched his face, relieved it was really just a dream. And dreams couldn't hurt you.

But everything felt so real, so visceral and painful. It really felt like everything there actually happened to him. He could even recall the painful sensations of the mask fusing with his face.

But what really unnerved him were Alfred, and the young girl. He could understand why Alfred would be in this sort of dream, but he had no idea just who that girl was and why she was even there. And the cruelty in her voice and actions... it was very clear she had a very deeply set personal hatred against him.

But why?

* * *

Yao tried to go on about his day, behaving as dignified as possible, despite the numerous phone calls and e-mails from the other Nations. Each one dripped with such venom and hate against his actions, and vows that they would start up plans to withdraw their outsourced factories out of his country. The (semi-truthful) official reason was that outsourcing cost more in the end, and to bring jobs back to the home front.

But his own economy was the least of his worries.

His siblings all hated him. Even Yon-Soo... no,  _especially_  Yon-Soo.

He wanted to sleep. That should be a quick and easy (albeit temporary) escape from his problems.

Right?

_Yao didn't like this place at all. He walked through a hallway in a building he didn't really quite recognize. He continued on despite the heavy feeling of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He knew he had to come to this place. But why?_

_As Yao entered one of the conference rooms, he saw a group of very familiar nations. Arthur, Francis, Ludwig, Gilbert, Feliciano, Lovino, Kiku, Ivan, and some young woman he didn't recognize all stood there, having previously whispered things to each other._

_They all glared at Yao as soon as he came in, before the young woman began smirking. She quipped, "Well, well, well, look at what the diseased feral cat dragged in."_

_Yao asked, "What is the meaning of this, aru?"_

_Arthur angrily growled, "You know the stocks, Yao. Your economy may have shot up faster than a firework, but it couldn't sustain itself for very long from your frivolous spending and construction! You've dragged us all down!"_

_Yao took a step back, completely confused. "What are you talking about? I've had nothing to do with this, aru!"_

_Ivan, wearing the same dissonantly serene grin on his face as he always did, then replied, "Deny, deny, deny it all you want, comrade. You've been a very naughty boy. And naughty boys need to be punished, da?"_

_Now Yao really didn't like where this was going. The young lady's grin only grew wider and crueler as she spat, "I thought you would've at least learned better than that, Yao. I'm an embryo compared to you, but for all your age, you still haven't learned a thing. Boys, I think you all know what to do."_

_The others nodded and began to close in on Yao. Ivan, being rather fast for his large size, quickly restrained Yao as Arthur and Ludwig began to tie his hands behind his back and legs together. Now Yao was very,_ _**very** _ _frightened._

_"What are you doing?! I didn't do anything wrong!"_

_His pleas and screams went on ignored however, as Francis took out some scissors and started cutting up Yao's pants and the young woman just simply smiled through it all._

_It seemed to go on forever. The pain, humiliation and degradation were never ending, and utterly merciless. Each nation in the room, except the woman, all had their way with Yao, and all he could do was helplessly lay there and take the abuse. They wouldn't listen to reason, anything._

_Once Russia was finished, he cut the restraints on Yao's legs and arms, and simply left him a mess on the floor, covered in blood and semen. Yao brokenly sobbed and trembled, unable to comprehend just why his friends stabbed him in the heart like this._

_The woman then got up, laughing. She took a cigarette out and lit up, taking a few drags from it with indifference to Yao's agony. She crouched down and looked into Yao's eyes._

_"It's not so fun or pleasurable when it's you on the receiving end of things, huh, Yao?"_

_Yao glared at her, actually being able to muster anger at the woman who blatantly was rubbing salt into his wounded dignity._

_"Why?" he coughed out. "I didn't do anything wrong."_

_"Tell that to him," she simply replied, as she pointed to a cage in the corner of the room. Yao's eyes widened._

_It was Alfred, though very different looking. He looked like a waking corpse, those zombies that he apparently loved watching in movies, with his body bony and decayed, and a clear hunger for flesh. Yao's flesh in particular. Alfred growled and thrashed around in his cage like a rabid animal, restrained only by a chain and collar around his neck._

_The woman only smiled again and pressed the burning end of her finished cigarette against Yao's cheek, causing him to scream again. She seemed to relish watching him in pain as she threw the butt away in a nearby ashtray and started to drag Yao's weak and broken body to the opened cage and leave him at Alfred's mercy. Ludwig, with a large scissor like tool then cut the chain, setting Alfred free._

_As Alfred pounced on Yao, he smiled and whispered, "Don't worry Yao, I understand completely. Such is the curse for those of us at the top."_

_And then Alfred sank his teeth into Yao's neck, tearing a large chunk of flesh off._

Yao screamed in horror as he tumbled out of his bed tangled up in the blankets. He was drenched in cold sweat and utterly shaken to the core. This was, hands down, the absolute worst nightmare he ever had in his life. Seeing his friends utterly betray him like that, Alfred cannibalizing him, and that horrible, evil woman only adding insult to injury...

Her horrible words echoed in his mind.

_"It's not so fun or pleasurable when it's you on the receiving end of things, huh, Yao?"_

As they did, Yao felt another horrible realization hit him – his economy may have been said to be poised to exceed that of the US, but economists had expressed skepticism if he could keep up the momentum. Hell, any day, that nightmare could come true. That one day, it could be  _him_ lying on that floor, raped physically, mentally and emotionally by the people he trusted.

"What have I done?" he sobbed to no one in particular. "Gods, what kind of monster am I?! I haven't learned anything at all! No matter how long I've lived, I've never learned anything! No wonder my siblings never respected me..."

He knew he deserved this as well. He had let his anger and frustration consume him, and never even once stopped to think that he had showed a truly ugly side of himself that day. And he would pay for it for the rest of his existence.

* * *

Ivan didn't expect to get any sleep. In fact, he couldn't recall the last time he actually had a good night's rest. So why expect it now?

Still, the room was dimly lit, it was late out and he was tired. He slumped into his chair and closed his eyes.

_The motel room was dark, dingy and reeked of mildew. He could hear dripping pipes and the leaky faucet. And worst of all, he was tied up, chained to the bed and naked._

_A feminine voice sharply asked, "You know why you're here, Ivan?"_

_Ivan looked around the room, trying to decipher where the voice came from. Out of the shadows in a corner, she stepped out. A young woman, young teenager at least, appeared before him. She had beige skin, short brown hair, and piercing blue eyes that looked very familiar._

_"Who are you?" he asked._

_"I am your punishment for your sins, Ivan. And believe me; I have a long list of things I can get you for. But one in particular stands out," she replied coldly._

_Ivan's eyes widened as she pulled a remote control out and turned the TV on, the picture revealing to be a video detailing The Incident. The particular scene playing on the screen was of Ivan forcibly thrusting his cock into Alfred's mouth as he sobbed and begged for it all to stop._

_The girl's expression only twisted with absolute disgust and hatred._

_"You didn't give a shit about the economy," she snarled. "You didn't care about teaching him some lesson. All you cared about was getting the chance to humiliate him over an incredibly insignificant grudge. You brought your own misfortunes on yourself. You are a disgrace to the people of the country you embody. All you ever care about is hurting others and making them miserable, because you are so childish and petty that you can't stand to see anyone else happy. You make me sick."_

_Her words dripped with venom, and Ivan started to feel scared. And it wasn't like how he was sometimes scared of Natalia; no, she was doing this because she despised him with every fiber of her being. He hated feeling helpless like this, and tried to struggle his way out of the binds holding him to the bed._

_"Save yourself the trouble," the girl spat as she opened up a suitcase. "Since you seem to love doling out punishments, I'll give you exactly what you deserve. You're familiar with the notion of karma, correct?"_

_She held a very long and very thick black phallus shaped object in her hand, and Ivan grew more frightened as she walked towards him with a rather sick grin on her face. She started to push the dildo against Ivan's resistant hole._

_She growled, "Stop squirming so much. Or are you not as strong as you brag to be? What's wrong, Ivan? You can dish it out but you can't take it?"_

_It was difficult at first, since she was shoving it in there dry as a bone, but eventually, she was able to push the dildo into Ivan's body. He screamed as white hot pain seared through his body, and something told him that this probably wasn't all she had in store for him._

_The girl nodded, looking rather pleased. She then went to the suitcase again and took some other things out._

_"Now, this is the first time I've ever done this, so I can't guarantee it'll look nice," she said as she took out something that looked like a tattooing gun with a jar of black ink. She then got on top of Ivan, mounting him as she dipped the pen into the ink and turned it on, a slight electric hum radiating from it._

_Ivan desperately tried to squirm again and throw her off, but she was much stronger than she looked. Anytime she looked like she was losing her balance, she only dug the tattoo pen in harder. Blood and ink dripped everywhere on Ivan's torso, and the pain was hellish. He had been through his fair share of pain, but this was on a whole new level._

_Finally, after what felt like days, the girl was finished. She got off of Ivan and wiped his torso down with a cold wet cloth, admiring her handiwork._

_"Quite beautiful if I say so myself," the girl said. She reached down and picked up a large mirror so Ivan could see it._

_Although the words were backwards in their reflection and somewhat jagged, he could still read them clearly. Scrawled all over his chest and stomach was the phrase, "I AM A LYING PIG AND A RAPIST."_

_"It will always be there, like your sins, Braginsky," the girl maliciously spat. "Even if the others forget, I never will. And if you even try to pull anything on me like you did to Alfred, I will not be as kind to you like I am right now. And if I ever catch you even thinking of touching me, I will. RIP. YOU. TO. PIECES. Believe me, this is only a taste of what I'm truly capable of. I will torture you physically, mentally and emotionally in ways you could never imagine, that even the Devil himself would shudder at. I can, and will, make you regret the very day your whore mother gave birth to your pathetic, useless existence, until any semblance of dignity you have leaves, and leave you to die a wretched, humiliating death, like you fully deserve. Are we clear?"_

_Ivan began sobbing and he nodded desperately, just wanting her to go away and leave him alone forever. He pitifully answered, "Yes, I understand completely. I won't ever touch you; I won't even come near you in fact. I will leave you be, and never hurt anyone else. I swear that to you from the very bottom of my soul."_

_The girl was silent for a moment, and then she smiled. She simply said, "Good."_

_She then drew her leg back and with a hard kick, drove the dildo in deeper, the painful jolt bringing Ivan back to reality._

Ivan snapped awake, shaken to the core and drenched in cold sweat. Immediately and reflexively, his hands first went towards his buttocks to make sure there wasn't anything in there. Next he looked at his chest, relieved to see no tattoo etched into his skin. Just pale, milky white skin with numerous scars acquired over years of his country's harsh history.

That girl... Good God, that girl was absolutely terrifying. He had seen, been through and done many terrible things over his life. And his sister Belarus was a perfect example of frightening. But Natasha only did these things out of a hunger for her brother's love (a love that he only reciprocated in a familial way, not the romantic/sexual way she would've liked). This girl however, did this for no other reason besides hating every last part of his being with every fiber of her own.

Frankly he couldn't blame her.

He deserved no sympathy.

He did his crime, would face his punishment, and would have to live with it for a long, long time.

* * *

She came on a calm, warm and beautiful sunny day. In the middle of the forest, untouched by human hands, she emerged from the earth, air and water, surrounded by the local flora and fauna. She had light brown hair and beige skin, an indication that she was an embodiment of a more diverse population than her predecessor had been. However, she did inherit his eyes – blue like the skies and the shining seas. And strangely, but not much so, she was born clothed, donning a pure white outfit of a shirt, pants and simple slippers.

She lay in a soft bed of grass and leaves as she awoke to the soft first rays of the morning sun and greeted by the kind animals that knew she was a child of the land, just as her predecessor was.

As the girl awoke, panic quickly gripped her. For she shouldered and inherited a lot of things from her predecessor, including his memories, she could recall his last days and what lead up to his passing play in her mind with frightening clarity. She screamed and sobbed in pain, clutching her head as she tried to sort through them. The strain proved to be too much, and she keeled over, violently vomiting acid from her stomach.

For almost an entire hour, she was curled up into a ball, crying uncontrollably. The animals all cuddled next to her to comfort her, letting her know she wasn't alone, that they would not fail her. Eventually, she was able to get a grip on herself, wiped her nose off and let some of the smaller animals (a pair of rabbits as well as a skunk) into her arms, hugging them as thanks. She then got up on her feet and finally spoke.

"I know what I have to do, guys. Will you help me find him?"

The animals nodded.

And so the girl, the new America, began to run, the animals surrounding her and guiding her. She would not stop until she found the one person in the world she knew could help her; the only one in the world she could trust.

_'I'll find you soon, Matt.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I really love zombies. And "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo." And the Haunted Majora's Mask Cartridge Creepypasta. Feliciano's nightmare is based off Discord's corruption of Pinkie Pie from MLP:FiM.And, Ludwig's nightmare features the ghost of Anne Frank and the old man who lost his whole family in the Holocaust is Anne's father. And there's my shout-outs for this chapter. 
> 
> And I'll be honest, I hated Ivan in the comics more than anything, so I decided to give him the most humiliating punishment imaginable. He'll be getting even more in real life too. Oh how I will relish writing those scenes...


	4. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new personification of the USA arises, complicating the picture. Can Matt put his grief aside, or let his anger turn him away from her?

Matt knew from the start that he would have to take over his brother's duties, alongside his own. He knew it wouldn't be easy either, but he knew he had to do it. For Alfred above all else.

It probably wasn't a good idea to jump right into work while he was still grieving, but Matt had to do this. It still didn't stop him from wondering about certain things.

For one thing, Matt had to wonder to himself if Alfred would have a successor and if there would be a new personification of the USA. The country still existed, so maybe not, and he just took it over. But at the same time, someone would have to represent the country; embody its people, its soul.

And of course, there was the promise he made to Alfred. That if another personification of the USA came into being, that Matt look after Alfred's successor and protect whoever took Alfred's place.

In a way, he almost didn't want there to be a successor; he almost wished Alfred would come back somehow, impossible as it was. Alfred being gone for good just felt like those assholes still "won" in the end.

No matter how many times they groveled, begged, bargained or felt guilty, no matter how empty it would make him feel in the end, he wouldn't and couldn't ever forgive them.

They didn't deserve anything but his hatred.

* * *

 

It had taken a few days of nonstop running, but she finally reached the outskirts of Washington D.C. The animals were her only companions and the greatest help she could ask for. She could see the city's activity of locals going about their daily lives and tourists taking in the rich history and scenery. This was the city symbolizing her heart, her being, her very soul, and it felt euphoric to see it through her own eyes instead of her shared memories with Alfred.

But most of all, she knew help existed there. And Matt.

A bird on her shoulder chirped, sounding rather concerned. She looked sad.

"I'm sorry, guys," she said firmly, "but I can't stay with you. You've all known that. You have to let me go from here, alright? I know he'll take good care of me."

It wasn't that the animals didn't trust the northern brother. They knew that he would move Heaven and earth to keep from making the same mistake, but they doubted those filthy men from across the ocean would have learned anything. The thought of losing her to the same circumstances would be anathema to all of them.

She could sense their worry and tried to placate them.

"Look, everyone, I know it's hard. But I'm not going to let that sort of thing happen to me. And even if they tried, I'm not going to let them off the hook, and he won't let them get off easily a second time. I think you can count on that."

But the animals had one more up their metaphorical sleeves, looking down at the ground clearly saddened. She returned the emotion.

"I know. I'm going to miss you all too," she admitted, tears flowing from her eyes.

And so, with a heavy heart, they gathered around each other for one last hug before she ran off on her own into the city. The animals released their calls into the sky, saddened by the fact that they would never see her again, but also optimistic that the new child of the land would bring about a new age of hope and prosperity.

The new America kept running, ignoring how tired her small feet and lungs were. She couldn't, wouldn't stop until she reached her destination and finally find him. Even as people stared at her, finding it odd a little girl was running across the city by herself, she paid them no mind. All she thought about was him.

Matt.

* * *

He looked over numerous financial reports. He wasn't an economic scientist, but he had to shoulder this, and not let Alfred's memory be in vain. His desk was an absolute mess, covered everywhere with documents, paperwork, little cups to hold pens, staplers, folders and a few cans of energy drinks that left him a bit twitchy from being so wired up on caffeine.

His eyes burned from looking and reading the graphs. He had decided to help fund a few "green energy" projects in the hopes of creating new jobs, and hopefully helping banks stay open and not lose the funds people invested in them could provide a remedy to this situation. But it was like slapping a band-aid on a broken leg and everyone knew it.

Matt tried to ignore that feeling he had that this was only the tip of the iceberg of his newfound stress.

He was shaken out of his sullen thoughts when a young man came in practically running and out of breath, clearly having some kind of news to deliver to Matt.

The young man said between pants, "Mr. Williams, I have news."

"Whoa, hey, what's going on?" Matt asked him.

"It's the White House," he said. "There's this kid there asking specifically for you. A little girl."

For a second, Matt's brain went blank before he found himself again and immediately grabbed his coat and started running out the door. He had a very strong feeling in his gut that this little girl could be the one. But he had to see it for himself.

He wasn't totally sure if he wanted that girl to be what his gut said she was.

Within ten minutes, Matt was at the White House. Surrounded by staff and politicians alike, Matt heard their stories.

A Secret Service agent said, "I was just walking Bo out on the lawn and she was there at the front gate. Bo just started running towards her, pulling me along for the ride. That kid was demanding to see the President and you especially, Mr. Williams."

The First Lady herself said, "I was shocked at how she looked. She was covered in dirt and looked famished. She kept talking about seeing you, and that you were the only person she trusted. She refused to eat or take a bath before seeing you."

Matt rushed down the hallway towards the room she was staying in. He steeled himself for the inevitable and opened the door.

He almost gasped. She was the same exact girl he saw in that nightmare he had over a week ago, although unharmed, other than the small cuts on her hands and arms, and the obvious blisters on her feet. Her light brown hair was matted down and dirty, and she looked hungry and exhausted. As soon as she saw him, her blue eyes lit up and like any excited and happy child, she ran up to him.

She stopped cautiously in front of Matt and said, "I've been looking for you."

She reached over to him and Matt, despite himself, touched her hand with his. He could feel it – familiar warmth, mixed with sadness and pain. But most of all, there was hope there.

"Are you okay, Matt?" the girl asked.

For a moment, he wasn't sure. Before, he hadn't even wanted her around; but that wouldn't be fair to her, to hate her just for existing. He knew she was an innocent in all of this. He couldn't take his grief out on her; he had a conscience for one thing, and it just was not right. And despite his grief for his brother, Matt realized another, stronger emotion take over him – love.

Tears began to run down Matt's face, and immediately he scooped the little girl up into his arms and hugged her tight, letting his previous desires wash away and be replaced with love and hope. She returned the embrace, shedding happy tears of her own, and glad to know Matt hadn't rejected her.

And most of all, neither was alone.

* * *

The girl was finally willing to eat and take a warm bath, and after being supplied with new clothes, she and Matt were able to talk.

"I don't know what happened," she admitted. "I just woke up in the middle of a field, and looked like this, all grown up and surrounded by animals. They helped me find my way here and to you."

Matt raised an eyebrow at her statement that she just literally popped out of thin air. Of course, it probably wasn't impossible for their kind. Hell, even the older nations weren't completely sure just  _how_  they worked in general, and Matt wasn't about to ask anytime soon.

"How long did it take you?" he asked.

The girl replied, "About four days. I ate when I needed to eat, and slept when I needed to sleep, but other than that, I just ran every day with the animals to find you. They were very helpful."

 _'Just like with Alfred,'_ Matt thought to himself, musing how the girl inherited Alfred's attributes. But that also brought more questions. Namely...

Matt carefully asked, "Do you share Alfred's memories, by any chance?"

The girl looked down at the carpet and tears began to flow from her eyes. She could only barely nod yes to Matt, which horrified him. This alone confirmed that she remembered everything, including The Incident and that fateful day. And it brought another layer to Matt's rage and hatred towards Alfred's attackers. Not only did they kill his brother, but they also had to subject an innocent girl to those things.

She looked at Matt, crying, "I keep having nightmares about it. I know that I have to be strong, because Alfred wants it for me, but I don't know what else to do, Matt. I don't want to make any mistakes, and I don't want other people to hate me for things that weren't my fault. I can't trust anyone."

Matt felt his heart break in two at this sight. She shared not only Alfred's memories but also several of the emotional connections he had with those events. She was clearly scared and in many ways, insecure. She felt she had no one, but that was not right. Matt immediately grabbed her into a tight comforting hug.

"You don't have to worry, sweetie," Matt said to her firmly. "You are not alone, because I am here for you. I won't let what happened to Alfred happen to you, and I swear on his memory, if those bastards try anything on you, I won't let them off easily a second time. I know you're scared, but I also know that you're braver than anyone I've ever known. You survived in the wild for four days, just to find me. And I won't fail you. I promise you that, little sister."

The girl looked at Matt again, this time with tears of joy in her eyes and she hugged him back tighter. She whispered, "Thank you, Matt," over and over again.

Matt smiled and said, "Come on, honey, let's go home."

"Where?" she asked.

"I have a house here in D.C. It's not a lot right now, but this weekend, I promise you that I'll get you stuff for your own bedroom, clothes and other things. I'll also get you enrolled into a school too. How does that sound?"

Her smile, ever so beautiful and radiant, grew and she replied, "I think it sounds awesome!"

Matt took her hand into his, and after explaining things to the president and getting into a couple scuffles with the White House staff, Matt made himself clear – the new embodiment of the USA would live with him. He made a promise to his brother the day he died that he would look after Alfred's successor and he would take it upon himself to raise her and be there for her.

He would not fail Alfred, and he would not fail her.

In God's good name, he swore on it.

But he also knew he would need some help. And Matt knew the right people, or rather, Nations to call for this.

* * *

Elizabeta angrily hit the punching bag several times, trying to blow off some steam. It didn't really work, and in a weird sort of way, she felt sorry for this inanimate object having to serve as a stand-in to the ones whose faces she would've loved to pummel to the dirt.

When she saw Alfred come back to the world meeting that fateful day over a month ago, she just knew deep in her gut that something was horribly wrong. No nation would skip out on meetings for nearly six months, and act like the complete opposite of their usual self. Seeing nine countries nations Alfred considered friends and family acting suspicious should've raised more red flags for her.

She just chalked it up to the economic recession and stress, and let it be.

When Matt showed her and all other nations the video recording of Alfred's suicide, Elisabeta hated herself for not investigating further, for not listening to her gut feeling.

But she hated Alfred's assailants even more. With every fiber of her being.

Elizabeta also hated that she couldn't avenge Alfred's death. She hated how she had to keep up her economic and diplomatic ties with those bastards. She hated how she had to go on like nothing was wrong, because damn it all to hell, it wasn't fucking alright.

She would've probably punched the bag until it was torn to pieces, but she heard her phone start ringing, shaking her out of her thoughts. When she saw it was Matt calling she knew she had to answer. She felt that she did owe him in a way. She couldn't fail him again, so she picked up.

"Matthew! Hello, how are you today?" she asked him.

Matt replied, "Well, that's kind of a hard one to answer. I'm calling because I need your help with something very, very important, Elisabeta. I think you would be the best person to ask for it."

Elisabeta's curiosity piqued as she wiped sweat off her forehead. Help? She could do that.

"What do you mean? What is this very important thing?"

Matt seemed to hesitate on the other side of the line before answering in a solemn tone, "The thing is, it's happened. A new personification of the US has appeared, and she is in my house right now, sleeping after spending nearly a week in the wilderness trying to look for me. I made a promise to Alfred after he died that I would look after her, but I know I can't go at it by myself. I need help, and I know you're one of the best people to ask for it."

"Me?!" Elisabeta asked. That was surprising in itself. Matt was asking her to help him raise a little girl. She still remembered how she was so convinced she was a boy when she was younger, and that her penis would grow out eventually. She hardly considered herself worthy of being a good caretaker (if Feliciano's lack of a spine and willingness to go with the assault on Alfred was of any indication), but at the same time, she realized that the new America would need a strong female presence in her life, and Elisabeta did owe it to Matt and Alfred. She needed to atone for her own mistakes, but she wouldn't, and couldn't allow herself to be selfish.

"How soon do you need me to come?" she asked.

"As soon as possible," Matt replied simply.

"Alright," Elisabeta nodded, "I'll come to Washington D.C. by tomorrow at the earliest. I'll see you soon."

"Thank you so much, Elisabeta. It really means a lot to me."

"You're welcome."

Elisabeta ended the call, and quickly grabbed her things. She had to book the soonest possible flight to the US capital. She knew what she had to do.

* * *

Katyusha's head and eyes hurt from looking over so many documents and paperwork, and that did nothing to alleviate from her distress, grief and anger from the events of the last couple of months.

She was no stranger to her brother's insanity. Ivan had always been on the emotionally unstable side, and had gone through a lot of hardship. Invasions, political and social problems, war, and personal loss had taken their toll on Ivan's general mental well-being. But he did have his tender side; Katyusha knew that Ivan really did care about her and Natalia, even if he wasn't good at showing it, and his adoration for his sunflower garden showed he had a caring nature underneath his harsh exterior.

But never in a million years would she ever have imagined he was capable of what he did seven months ago.

When she personally confronted him, Ivan claimed he did it to save everyone, that Alfred's mistakes were dragging everyone down and he needed to learn his actions had consequences. He did it to save her and Natalia. Katyusha remembered that day all too well.

_"Pardon my language, Ivan," Katyusha spat, her tone venomous, "but that is a load of bullshit! If you really did love us like you say you do, you would not do things that would hurt our friends! Even after everything you said and did to each other during the Cold War, Alfred was still willing to see you as a friend and let bygones be bygones! And you do this to him?!"_

_Ivan became desperate as he reached out to his sister, "Katya, please, listen to me! I did this because I love you, and love doesn't come without sacrifice!"_

_*smack*_

_Katyusha's hand burnt slightly and she was rather shocked with herself, but she also felt a strange sense of... satisfaction. Ivan gawked at her, mouth ajar and jaw loose, as his hand shook to cover his now pink cheek._

_"If that is what you call love, then I don't want it," Katyusha snarled, white hot tears of rage now flowing from her eyes. "And never call me Katya again. That was name only my brother could call me, and you are not my brother anymore, Ivan. Goodbye and good riddance."_

_As she walked away, she could hear Ivan desperately call out to her, begging her not to go, to listen to him, anything. But she never turned around. Just the mere sight of him made her sick._

It wasn't exactly satisfying though. She despised the fact that there wasn't much she could do. She wanted them to be punished accordingly, but things weren't that simple. She wished she didn't have to depend on any of their imports but her economy was barely able to stand on its own. It aggravated her, but it also gave her a desire to want to be more self-sufficient and reliant. Show them she was not a weak flower.

She was shaken out of her thoughts when her cell phone started to loudly ring. She almost would've rejected the call, until she saw on the caller ID that it was Matt. Maybe that could bring her spirits up, even though she doubted it. Matt clearly was still hurting; everyone was hurting. But she answered, because she needed to hear a familiar voice from someone she actually liked.

"Hello, Matthew! How are you?"

Matt replied, "Well, that's kind of a hard one to answer. I'm calling because I need your help with something very, very important, Katyusha and I know I can trust you to be someone that can do the job."

Katyusha became curious with Matt's odd answer, so she pressed "What do you mean? What is this very important thing?"

Matt seemed to hesitate on the other side of the line before answering in a solemn tone, "Well, it's happened. A new personification of the US has appeared. A little girl, who said she literally came out of thin air to inherit my brother's position. She spent nearly a week in the wilderness trying to look for me, and is in my home now, sleeping. And I made a promise to Alfred after he died that I would look after his successor, but I know I can't do it all by myself. I need help, and I know you're one of the best people to ask for it."

It felt like a stone fell into Katyusha's stomach. A successor for Alfred had appeared, and Matt was asking for  _her_  help in raising this little girl. She honestly didn't know what to say now. She knew it would be the right thing to do, to say yes and help. But there was also another part of her, an angry part that almost didn't want to see this little girl; she almost didn't want a successor to appear in fact. Alfred being gone forever just felt like her brother had won, and she didn't want him to have any of that satisfaction.

But, in the end, decency and good nature came through. Katyusha could not blame that girl for who she was, or for the circumstances that necessitated her existence. She was innocent in all this, and only deserved a chance at a good life, being loved by caring people who were willing to teach her to do good in this world and to live up to her predecessor's legacy.

"Oh, Matthew, I'm very glad you called me. And it would be an honor to help you. I want to meet her and help you in any way I can. When do you want me to come?"

Matt answered, "As soon as possible. I know it's on short notice, but I would really appreciate it if you came within the week."

Katyusha wrote this down in a spare piece of paper, and replied, "Got it. I'll book the next available flight to Washington D.C. I'll see you soon Matthew. I can't wait to meet her."

She was sure Matt was smiling as he said, "Yeah, she's a real sweetheart. She can't wait to meet you either. I'll see you soon."

"Goodbye, Matthew. And please, take care of yourself too. I have a feeling you're quite stressed, and you shouldn't forget about yourself."

"I won't."

With that, they ended the call and Katyusha quickly got down to business. She could not fail Alfred again, and she would not fail Matthew. That was a promise.

* * *

_Two days later..._

Matt anxiously waited at the airport for Katyusha and Elisabeta to arrive. He hadn't seen them since that meeting, and he really hoped they would keep true to their promises. He didn't doubt they would do their best, but he did not want his new little sister to ever get the impression that the other nations hated her for being Alfred's replacement.

As soon as he saw Elisabeta in the crowd, he smiled and approached her.

"Matthew!" Elisabeta beamed as she took him into her arms and tightly hugged him. Matt returned the embrace, glad to know there were still good nations around that he could trust.

"How is she?"

Matt replied, "Well, she's doing alright. She's mostly just trying to get used to her new life, and really wants to start school soon. I've been trying to make whatever free time I have with her matter, which is the most important thing."

Elisabeta smiled, glad to know the new America was getting accustomed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another familiar face.

Katyusha, as soon as she saw Matt talking with Elisabeta, looked a bit surprised there was another, but she brushed that aside as she ran up to Matt, embracing him tightly.

Matt returned the embrace and said, "Katyusha, I'm so glad you were able to come too. It really means a lot to me that you're here."

Katyusha smiled back and replied, "Oh Matthew, when you said you needed help, I couldn't say no. And when you told me about the situation, I couldn't just stand idly by. I really want to meet her too."

Elisabeta quickly asked, "By the way, Matthew, does she have a name?"

Mat raised his eyebrows at this, and realized Elisabeta raised a good point. The girl didn't mention having any name, and he hadn't thought about what to call her, aside from America. She needed one. Matt shook his head, adding, "Not yet. We should do that as soon as possible."

Both female nations nodded, and once they each picked up their luggage, Matt took them to his car and they began driving from the airport and over to his new home in Washington D.C.

It was located in the middle of a quaint little suburb, and decently sized for the two inhabitants. There was a perfectly manicured and grassy front lawn with a large tree that had a tire swing put in, likely for the girl's enjoyment, and a small patch of flowers. The front porch was well kept, with a swinging couch and a few pots of other flowers. The inside was well kept as well, furnished with comfortable furniture, entertainment, and décor. Matt definitely went out of his way to ensure he and his new little sister would be comfortable here.

"Sweetie Belle, they're here! Come on out!" Matt called out reassuringly.

From the hallway, Elisabeta and Katyusha heard the soft footsteps of the young girl slowly make their way towards the living room. They both softly gasped.

She was so beautiful. Her short light brown hair was kept back by a white headband, perfectly framing her dainty heart shaped face, and her bright blue eyes were wide with slight apprehension. She was a little tall, but didn't look much older than ten years of age physically. She was wearing a blue shirt with the My Little Pony characters on it, denim knee length shorts and white socks.

She just stood at the end of the hallway, glancing at them. Matt walked over to her and gently said, "Come on, Sweetie Belle, don't be shy now. Katyusha and Elisabeta are very great and kind people. They're friends."

The girl nodded and walked over to the two women, and in a painfully shy, subdued voice, said, "Hi."

Elisabeta knelt down and said, "Hi there, dear. I'm Elisabeta. I embody the nation of Hungary. Matthew said you're excited to start school soon."

She nodded, smiling. Katyusha joined in.

"And I'm Katyusha, otherwise known as Ukraine. Matthew said you couldn't wait to meet us. And we were very excited to see you too. You're more beautiful that I could've ever dreamt," she gushed, gently running her fingers through the girl's hair.

The girl blushed and bashfully said, "Thank you, Katyusha. I know Alfred saw you both as very nice people, and I'm glad to see that it's still true after meeting you and Elisabeta in person myself."

Both women couldn't help but feel their hearts melt at this. But at the same time, they both felt some heartbreak. The new America was very overtly polite, and seemed very scared. Scared to look like a repeat of Alfred, who may have been flawed, but was at heart a very good natured man. They didn't want her to be a wallflower. They couldn't let her be a doormat to the bastards that hurt her predecessor.

Elisabeta quickly said, "Well, I have a good idea for what we can do right now! Matthew, you said that she still doesn't have a human name yet, correct?"

Matt scratched his head and admitted, "Well, I did look through some name lists, and I've found some nice sounding ones, but I haven't been able to make any decisions."

"Well, why don't we let her look over the list? Let her choose her name?" Katyusha suggested.

The new America chirped, "Yeah, I like that idea."

Matt decided to let it be so, as he sat the girl down in front of the computer, which had a website up on it listing girls' names. She looked over the list, every letter in the English alphabet, keeping track of the names she liked by writing them on a sheet of paper. Some sounded good for a first name, others for a middle name. But she wisely decided to take her time. There was no rush.

She had her choices narrowed down eventually. But out of all the names she wrote, one name in particular stood out as a worthy candidate for her first name.

It had American origins, and its meaning was "beauty." She loved the way is sounded in her head when combined with her last name of Jones.

"Kenna," she said. "Kenna Jones."

Matt let the name sink in, and it did have a nice ring to it. He asked, "Are you sure that's the name you really want?"

"Yes," she nodded.

Elisabeta said, "It sounds beautiful. It's a perfect name for a wonderful girl like you."

The newly named Kenna beamed, and then said, "How about a middle name? I'm sure you guys can think of something."

The three adult nations thought long and hard about this. Matt wanted something that would honor his brother, aside from Kenna's desire to be known as a Jones. A feminine form of 'Alfred' sounded a bit cheesy, but something close. Something that went well with Kenna and gave off strength. He then remembered one girl's name that meant "to strive or excel." It was inspiring and beautiful at the same time.

Matt let it roll off his tongue out loud, "Kenna Emily Hope Jones."

Katyusha smiled, "I think that sounds absolutely perfect. It's strong, inspiring and beautiful, wouldn't you guys agree?"

Elisabeta gave her approval and Kenna happily nodded, the smile on her face so beautiful, it was absolutely heartwarming to look at.

"I love it," Kenna said. She then repeated her full name, "Kenna Emily Hope Jones. That is my name."

Matt smiled and said, "Yes it is. But you're still my Sweetie Belle," as he playfully ruffled her hair.

"Matt!" Kenna cried out. Everyone laughed in response to this. There was nothing wrong or awkward about any of this. It was all perfect, natural, and nice.

And hopefully, it was also the start of more new and great memories.

* * *

_One week later..._

Kenna nervously fidgeted in the car as Matt drove to the building where a meeting for all nations was being held at. Very few nations knew why it was being called and why it was absolutely mandatory that they come. Kenna really hoped to make a good first impression. She was dressed quite form ally, in a white blouse, a dark blue blazer and skirt with white stockings and black Mary-Jane shoes, and her hair kept back by a white headband. But looking good was one thing; her personality and demeanor were another matter entirely.

Matt could sense her worries, and reassured her, "Don't worry, Kenna. You should not worry about what they would think of you. You don't have to let them walk all over you to be liked by them."

Kenna flatly said, "I know, Matt. But I'm worried. How are they going to react to the fact that I exist though?"

Matt really didn't know the answer to that. He just quietly parked their car, and prayed it would go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's my MLP:FiM shout-out. ;)
> 
> I love writing Kenna; she's starting off as a scared kid, but as she grows up, she becomes braver and stronger as well. And just so any readers know, I'm still open to another beta-reader! Send me a PM or just mention it in your review, and I'll reach out to you. Thanks for the kudos, bookmarks and support! :D


	5. The First Stage: Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> China and Japan refuse to believe anything happening right now. They are in for a rude awakening.

_The first stage of grief is denial. When the news of tragedy reaches their ears, the person won't believe it. They deny it is there, that this is happening to them. They shut it out, and reject the reality of the situation._

_This will only lead to disaster, as the evidence will continue to present itself, and soon, this little wall of ignorance will break._

* * *

He still didn't want to believe it.

Kiku did not want to acknowledge the simple fact that Alfred was dead.

He didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he was (partly) responsible for it.

And he didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he would probably never be able to right his wrongs.

He couldn't deny one thing however.

That nightmare he had over three weeks ago still haunted him. It chilled him to the very core, and no matter what Kiku tried, it wouldn't leave his mind. That girl in particular disturbed him. He had never seen her before, yet felt like he should know who she was. He didn't know why either, and that, in a way frightened him.

And if that girl herself wasn't unsettling enough on her own, there was also her and Alfred's words to him in that nightmare. How they forced him to wear that awful mask that robbed him of his mouth. All he could do was scream even when it wouldn't let him.

He didn't want to let those words get to him; acknowledge them even.

He would not let them get to him. He would hold his head up high and continue on working and going about his days as if nothing was wrong.

He also tried to ignore the cruel irony of that action.

As Kiku did his routine email check, one caught his eye – an invitation from a fellow Nation. He was surprised to say the least. After Matthew revealed what happened to Alfred, no one wanted to talk to him anymore. His siblings hated his guts, and even Herakles refused to look at him anymore when he found out and told Kiku to (in his own words), "go fuck himself."

Kiku tried not to let that hurt him.

It looked like the message was important though; otherwise, why would anyone want to contact him unless they really had to now? He opened it.

Kiku scanned the short email, which said that a meeting was being called to take place two days from now, and all nations that could make it absolutely had to come. The matter seemed urgent enough, and the nation calling for it was Canada himself.

Kiku did have to admit, he really did not want to come if Canada was the one calling for this meeting. As much as the Japan personification loathed admitting it, Matthew Williams had every good reason in the universe to despise him for what he did.

But then Kiku looked at it from a logical standpoint – Matthew would not call a meeting for every nation to come for a stupid reason. And Matthew himself grudgingly admitted that the possibility of getting revenge was not possible for him.

And the worst that could happen would likely be just being shunned and glared at by the others.

Kiku sent out an RSVP in a reply, and decided to get ready.

* * *

When Yao looked at his inbox, he was shocked to say the least. Him, get invited to something? Well, okay, it was actually just a meeting, not a party or something like that, but the fact that the invitation stated that it was very important he make an appearance. Something Canada deemed important enough that it was imperative all nations come to this meeting.

He honestly did not want to go. He hated the way his old friends and family members refused to associate with him anymore, how his one mistake turned him into a total pariah. He did not like being reminded of it at all.

Of course, Yao knew why. Of course he knew what he did was terrible, and he felt guilty. He wanted nothing more than to go back in time and prevent it. He apologized for it, but no one accepted them. He was a cast off.

He would've rejected the invitation if it wasn't for a strange nagging feeling he had that he should accept.

And so Yao decided to accept the invite, if only because he had nothing to lose.

* * *

_Two days later..._

As Matt looked around, he was pretty surprised at the turnaround the meeting had generated. Aside from the nations he knew would come (Katyusha, Elisabeta and Roderich, and countries he was known to have good relations with like Netherlands and Australia), he also saw the nine nations that he honestly wished wouldn't be here, but had to be. The Scandinavian countries were here as well, along with much of the South American nations.

What really surprised Matt the most however, was that nations that America was never on the best of terms with (several Middle Eastern countries, for starters) were downright disgusted with what happened, and gave Matt their sincerest regards to him for the loss he endured. It seemed what The Nine did was something even the Middle Easterners wouldn't wish on their most hated "enemy". Some were able to make it, feeling rather out of place here, but trying to get comfortable, and curious as to why this meeting was called.

The Canadian personification also noticed the ostracizing as well. Aside from Katyusha, Natalia was also completely ignoring her once beloved brother, who was sitting at the far end of the table, awkwardly trying to start a conversation with Yao. Yao barely seemed interested in any of this, especially when the other Asian nations only viciously glared at him and Kiku, letting them both know they were not welcome any time soon.

Once he was sure everyone that could make it was here, Matt began to walk towards the podium at the front of the table, standing there and he began to speak.

"As you all know, over a month ago, my brother, Alfred F. Jones, personification of the United States of America, took his own life after nine people he thought he could trust betrayed his faith."

Every nation in the room became solemn and it wasn't lost on Matt when he saw Alfred's attackers, off in their own little corner at the end of the table, flinched. And it made Matt glad in a way; he would not let them forget what they did. They hurt him and betrayed him as well, and took his brother from him; no amount of pain he inflicted on them would ever match the emotional scar they left in his heart. But he pushed that feeling aside for now and stayed professional, continuing on.

"But even though my brother is gone, he is not forgotten, and his legacy does live on. Ten days ago, I received news that a child appeared at the White House lawn, asking specifically to see me. And when I met her, I knew she was the one. Ladies and gentlemen, Nations of the world, meet the new personification of the United States of America, Kenna Emily Hope Jones."

Several nations actually gasped at this, surprised at Matt's story of meeting a new personification, and particularly of the fact that she appeared out of thin air almost. Other's were a bit surprised that she adopted her predecessor's last name. Chatter started up again as they wondered what she must be like; some were hoping she was a sign of good things to come and others being more apprehensive about her existence, if she would just be a repeat of Alfred.

Matt yelled out, "Everyone settle down! She is coming right now, and this is her first appearance. Let her speak first, then ask her your questions if you have any."

A few seconds passed, and no one came through the door. Matt scowled and then changed his expression to something much more tender and gentle as he walked to the double door entrance and said, "Kenna, come on out now. They're all waiting to see you."

After a short conversation including Matt reassuring her it was okay, Kenna finally came in with him.

As Kenna entered, she scanned over the room, biting her lip in a nervous anxiety. Her stomach felt like it was about to lurch out and she would begin vomiting all over the place. There were so many nations here, some that she recognized from her memories from Alfred, and others she wasn't so sure of.

She could see that reactions to her were mixed, to say the least. Some, mostly the female nations, cooed at how beautiful she was, which made her blush a little. Others were more shocked if anything, mainly by the fact that she was female and a young child on top of that. And the fact that she even existed in the first place.

Alfred's attackers meanwhile had the most curious of reactions. Arthur looked shocked, but that was replaced by an expression that no one could seem to decipher. Francis, Feliciano, Ludwig and Gilbert cringed back, clearly looking scared of her, Feliciano most especially, who looked like he was about to scream. Ivan just seemed to be engrossed by her, staring intently at her face as if she reminded him of someone he knew from a long time ago.

Kiku and Yao had particularly strange expressions. It was as if her merely being here was a complete and utter shock to their systems. She really had no idea what was going on with them, and tried to ignore them. She did not want to look at any of their faces; she wasn't going to let them get to her. They didn't actually lay a hand on her themselves, but she still felt a burning hatred towards them for what they did to her predecessor, and the horrible memories they had to leave her to deal with.

Her throat felt tight and all she could manage to croak out was a quiet little hello. She swallowed, trying to get rid of the dryness, the lumps and everything else in there to finally talk coherently.

"Like Matt said, my name is Kenna Jones. I'm the new personification of the USA. I can't really describe how I came into the world; I just appeared and woke up in the middle of a field. I found Matt and he has been looking after me ever since. I hope that I can do a good job, and be able to fill out the shoes my predecessor left behind. I know a lot of you probably won't like me a lot because I'm Alfred's successor, but I promise that I'll be different, but just as strong. Thank you."

Kenna turned away and ran back to Matt and Katyusha, almost hyperventilating. At least that part was finally over and out of the way. All she wanted was for this to be over as soon as possible.

Matt stood at the podium again and said, "As you can all see, since she's still a child, she won't be directly involved in any meetings. I still will be filling in the spot as both Canada and the USA in all affairs until Kenna's of age and knowledgeable of all protocols and dealings of Nations. Thank you for attending, every one of you. I sincerely hope for better things to come."

* * *

When Kiku and Yao both saw Kenna, neither could believe it. Not only did a new nation come into existence, but one for a country already established, and coming into the world as a young child for that matter.

But that wasn't why they were shocked.

This girl was complete solid proof of it. Her very existence was proof that Alfred really was gone, forever. He was dead, and it was their faults.

Seeing her in the flesh was like a big slap in the face, a wake-up call telling them to stop living in denial.

For the personification of Japan, several different emotions hit him like a ton of bricks, the biggest of which was grief. And then there was immediate guilt and horrific self-loathing that consumed him.

Kiku betrayed his friend, pushed him to the edge of despair and now left this innocent child here to take up a job she wasn't ready for. Alfred was gone, and there was nothing he could do to lie to himself about it any longer. The lies and denial were a comfort he did not deserve to feel. The truth was painful, and he could feel it, like a boot viciously and ruthlessly stomping down on his face, forever.

Yao on the other hand, just felt the full weight of what he had done sink fully into him. Sure, he knew what he did was wrong, but he still didn't want to take any responsibility for it, until now. He could recognize Kenna moreover; she was a much younger version of that woman he saw in that nightmare. It was surreal how this shy, innocent and rather sweet looking little girl could be the same person who gleefully watched him get sodomized and then eaten alive. Her existence itself felt like a punishment, a living reminder of his sins. He deserved no sympathy.

This was their reality.

They couldn't deny it any longer.

They did this to themselves. They only had themselves to blame.

And most of all, they knew they deserved it all. The hatred, the scorn, and everything else.

All they could do now was learn to live with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've taken so long to update! Aside from longer hours at work, looking for a new part-time job, as well as being really busy with deconstruction fic of "The Conversion Bureau", this chapter was just hard to write in general. I'll be honest, I don't have the best grips of Kiku and Yao's characters, nor am I good at writing the denial mindset. Hopefully the next stages are easier to write (spoiler: Artie boy's going to be in the Despair Stage, and I am planning to really make him suffer, mwahahahaha!).
> 
> And to tide anyone curious over, here's a preview of the next chapter...
> 
> "Matthew, wait, please!" Arthur desperately cried out. He already lost one of his boys; he couldn't bear to lose another. All the while, Arthur tried to ignore that nasty, horrible voice in the back of his mind that was telling him it was too late; Matthew was already lost to him.
> 
> Matt turned around, clearly exasperated. Through clenched teeth, he demanded, "What is it now?!"
> 
> "I'm sorry!" Arthur cried to him. He didn't know what else to say; he really meant it too. He poured his heart and soul into his apology.
> 
> Matt only scowled at that as he shook his head and sighed, "Sorry is not good enough, Arthur. You've caused way too much pain and damage for any apology to mean anything."


	6. Sorry Isn't Good Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A desire for redemption turns a man into a desperate mess...

When Arthur saw her, he knew exactly what she was.

His second chance.

She was so beautiful, as to be expected with the personification of the USA. She had a very different aura to her than Alfred though. Whereas Alfred was vibrant, full of life, and always ready to be everyone's friend (even though he could be a bit obnoxious about it at times), this little girl, Kenna, was a bit more cautious, guarded and only stayed by Matthew's side. She only interacted with a handful of other nations, female ones mostly as well as the countries Matthew was known to be good friends with. She didn't look timid or shy by any means, but he could tell she was practically born yesterday.

He needed to get her somehow. He just knew that her existence was a sign and a blessing most of all. He needed to bring her back with him to England and raise her properly. If he could avoid the same mistakes he made with Alfred when raising him, then he knew it would be what could redeem him.

He would not, could not let this opportunity escape from him.

* * *

"So Kenna, how do you feel?" Matt asked her.

"I'm alright, Matt," she told him. She had to admit, it was a bit annoying that Matt was being so overprotective over her. She understood his reasons, but she wasn't defenseless.

"How do you like the other nations?"

"I like plenty of them, they're nice people. I like Asher the most though. Asher's really cool!" she exclaimed.

Matt smiled, happy that at least Kenna was warming up to the other nations. He knew she would have a hard time trusting most of them, given what happened before. He had also hoped that she would be more well-liked personally than Alfred had been in a way. Alfred, though a nice and good-hearted guy, still had his occasions of being a bit loud and obnoxious and it had left Matt himself with having to deal with the consequences. He certainly didn't want Kenna to be a wallflower, but at least she seemed to be on the right track.

The meeting was called to a close, and most of the occupants had already left to go home. Whoever stayed behind was chatting with old friends, catching up in general.

"Well, I can't think of what else to do," Matt admitted as he looked at the rapidly dispersing crowd. "We should be getting home soon."

Kenna nodded, and then said, "Well before we go, I want to go to the bathroom before we leave. Is that ok?"

Matt replied, "Of course, Kenna. Meet me at the front door when you're done, alright?"

Kenna smiled and ran off to the bathroom.

* * *

 

There was his window of opportunity. She was alone and unguarded. Now was his chance.

Kenna went off to the ladies' room, where she took care of her business. As she washed her hands like a good girl should, she heard steps coming in. Kenna couldn't help but turn around and immediately felt her blood run cold when she saw who came in.

"Hi, sweetheart, I'm Arthur," he said to her.

She growled, "I know who you are."

Arthur was a bit taken aback by the venom in her voice (and glare), but tried not to let that deter him. He held out a hand and said, "Kenna, you are here to take Alfred's place, and I can help you with that."

"Doesn't look like you liked how he turned out though," Kenna snapped back. She was starting to get scared, but she tried not to let it show. Arthur was really creeping her out and she didn't like that look in his eye. She was sure he wasn't going to molest her, but still...

Arthur frowned and sighed. He didn't really like that he would have to be a bit tough about this, but he would have to.

* * *

 

Matt waited patiently at the front door, and some minutes had passed. He was starting to get worried.

Matt noted, "Kenna shouldn't be taking this long to just take a trip to the bathroom. What could be going on?"

Katyusha added, "I know, it's not like her. I hate to think the worst has happened, but something could be wrong.

Suddenly Elisabeta ran in and said, "I've just seen something else. England's car is still here. He hasn't left yet. He might be with Kenna right now."

Immediately, horror and worry hit Matt harder than a freight train. Fear gripped him as all kinds of scenarios of the worst case began playing through his mind. If he knew Arthur as well as he (hoped) he did, he knew his former caretaker was probably the reason why Kenna wasn't here yet, and Matt knew Arthur could do something awful to that poor girl.

"Everyone," Matt commanded, "split up and look for them. I don't like where any of this is going."

* * *

"No, stop it! Let me go!" Kenna pleaded as she desperately tried to free herself. It was fruitless however. Arthur kept a very tight grip on her wrist; her hand felt like it was going to fall off.

Arthur did have a feeling she wouldn't take immediately to him, but he never anticipated her putting up such a struggle. He had to placate her somehow.

"Look, sweetheart, I know you aren't excited about going to England with me, but I promise I won't hurt you," Arthur reassured. "I'll take very good care of you and once we get to England, I promise that I'll get you whatever you want."

Kenna angrily replied, "I'll tell you what I want – I want to be with Matt!"

Arthur persisted, "He's not fit to take care of you. Believe me, it's best this way. I cannot let this chance slip past me. I need to make things right."

Kenna was utterly frightened now. She did not want to go to England with this asshole who did what he did to her predecessor, and though she was young, Kenna could easily tell Arthur wasn't seeing her as a person, just Alfred's replacement. Not to mention, the way he insulted Matt like that made her blood boil.

She knew she had to think fast. Anything physical was out of the question, and Arthur clearly wouldn't listen to logic. She would have to strike at him emotionally. This was her only shot. It was a risky shot in the dark, but it was one she was willing to take.

And so Kenna took a deep breath, and screamed at the top of her lungs, "I hate your guts, you lying rapist asshole!"

It worked perfectly. Arthur let her wrist go, and slapped her across the face, sending her falling to the floor. As much as her cheek burned, Kenna was glad. She did indeed have a way with words.

Arthur, as soon as he realized what he did, was overcome with shock. Now that nightmare made sense, and he had just proven her right.

Before he could do anything else, he saw the last thing he wanted. Matthew, Elisabeta and Katyusha had found him and they witnessed everything.

Arthur was about to say this wasn't what it looked like (though it was), but Matthew literally beat him to the punch. He delivered a mean right hook to Arthur's cheek, knocking him over, and would've done a lot more had it not been for Elisabeta holding him back. The Hungarian personification, once a feared female warrior that made could make Prussia cower, was just barely able to restrain him though, as Matt thrashed against her and screamed curses and death threats to his former caretaker. Katyusha meanwhile helped Kenna up and took her away from the scene before returning to calm Matt down.

After several tense minutes, Matt finally cooled down enough that he didn't need his fists to express his rage. But he had words, and lots of them.

"Just when I thought you couldn't sink any lower, just when I thought I couldn't be more disappointed with you, you pull  _this_  stunt off," Matt ranted.

Arthur looked into the patterns of the carpet on the floor in shame. He couldn't do anything right it seemed.

Matt pressed on. "Why, Arthur? Why did you try to take Kenna away? You knew she wouldn't trust you after what you did to Alfred. And now you've only made it worse!"

Arthur immediately replied, "You wouldn't know how to raise a child! She's a complete brat! She needs someone with experience and a firm hand!"

But Matt wasn't buying it. Enraged, he yelled, "Bullshit, Arthur! I know when you're lying to me, so don't fucking try that! Now tell me the truth this time – why did you try to kidnap her?"

Arthur caved in and blurted out, "I tried to take her back with me to England because I need her! Don't you see, Matthew? She's my second chance. If I can get it right with her, I can make up for my mistakes with Alfred! That's why!"

Matt's jaw dropped at this, flabbergasted by Arthur's weak explanation. He hadn't heard an excuse for horrible actions more preposterous and stupid than...

The Canadian composed himself, and focused his rage, retorting, "So you tried to kidnap her to raise her yourself, because she's Alfred's replacement and you think that gives you the right to do whatever you want with her?"

Before Arthur could reply, Matt angrily continued. "Wake up, Arthur! Kenna is not some blank slate you can just mold and shape into whatever you want her to be! You can't, and never should force her to become some clone of Alfred just because you feel guilty for what you did seven months ago or because you're still hung up on the Revolutionary War. You never failed with Alfred; what you failed at was honoring your promise to be there for him!"

Arthur felt indignant at this. If Matthew thought he would just passively lie down and take his insults, he was sorely mistaken. So he angrily retorted, "You're no different, Matthew! You weren't exactly a perfect brother towards Alfred. I know you well enough to know that you view her as your own second chance to make things right. What makes  _you_  so special?"

Matt simply and coolly replied, "Because unlike you, I love Kenna for who she is, and I would never force her to become Alfred's clone out of some misguided attempt at redeeming myself."

Arthur was utterly silent for a moment until he managed to find his voice again.

"Why do you even care about her, Matthew? She's the result of Alfred's death, a constant reminder of your own mistakes. Why would you put so much into looking after her?" Arthur pressed.

Matt frowned for a moment before he finally responded.

"I care about her because she might be the result of Alfred's death, but none of it was her fault. She's an innocent in all this, and her hands are clean. But most of all is that I made a promise to Alfred. In his final personal letter to me, Alfred asked me to look after his successor, to guide, teach and protect whoever took his place. He didn't want what happened to him happen to anyone else."

Matt sadly turned over to the door, where Kenna was being consoled by Elisabeta and Katyusha, and turned back to Arthur, continuing on, "And when I met her for the first time, she was scared and nervous, and then I found out I was the only person in the world she actually trusts, and even then, it's limited. It just broke my heart. So I vowed I would be the best caretaker that I can be to her, and one way to be that is to never do anything that could break that trust.

"So yeah, you're right. I've never raised a kid before. Maybe I am in over my head. And I do view Kenna as a second chance for myself. But unlike you, Arthur, I would never force her to be someone she's not and I would never do anything to break the trust she has in me. Kenna may have Alfred's memories, but she is not, nor ever will be him. She's her own person with her own desires and dreams.

"I'll let you off with a warning right here, Arthur – if I ever see you try to pull a stunt like this ever again, I will not hold back, and I won't let anyone or anything stop me. I'll leave it up to you to imagine what I would do to you. Just remember that," Matt viciously hissed. He turned around and walked away.

"Matthew, wait, please!" Arthur desperately cried out. He already lost one of his boys; he couldn't bear to lose another. All the while, Arthur tried to ignore that nasty, horrible voice in the back of his mind that was telling him it was too late; Matthew was already lost to him.

Matt turned around, clearly exasperated. Through clenched teeth, he demanded, "What is it now?!"

"I'm sorry!" Arthur cried to him. He didn't know what else to say; he really meant it too. He poured his heart and soul into his apology.

Matt only scowled at that as he shook his head and sighed, "Sorry is not good enough, Arthur. You've caused way too much pain and damage at this point for any apology to mean anything."

And with that Matt left, signifying he cut Arthur out of his life for good. As he did, Matt quickly made a mental note to himself to sign Kenna up for some self-defense classes. She would definitely need them.

Arthur slumped into an armchair nearby and mentally kicked himself. He was so stupid! What was he thinking? What was wrong with him even?

He wasn't sure if it was his own guilty conscience, or ghosts, or some other outside influence, but he could hear the voices with frightening clarity, and their malice burning into him. They all said the same thing.

_You've learned nothing._

* * *

As Matt drove home with Kenna, he just couldn't help but reflect on what happened back there. An error in his judgement could've resulted in the worst kind of disaster for him and Kenna. He felt like a total idiot for not keeping a closer eye on her, and having enough faith that Alfred's attackers wouldn't try anything stupid with her. Then again, they always say hindsight is 20/20. It was just quick thinking and luck that Matt was able to stop Arthur from taking Kenna away and force her to play out a sick redemption fantasy.

He wished he could have done more than just punch Arthur's lights out. It was a beating that, as far as the Canada personification was concerned, was very long overdue.

Suddenly, Kenna broke the silence, asking, "Matt, are you okay?"

Matt stole a quick glance at her, and sighed. He really could not bring himself to lie to his little sister.

"No, sweetie belle. I'm not okay," Matt admitted sadly. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have left you alone."

_I shouldn't have left Alfred alone._

Kenna tried to say, "But Matt, Arthur would've tried something anyway, no matter-"

"No Kenna, that isn't what I meant. I shouldn't have put faith in the possibility that one of them would have learned their lessons and not do something stupid with you. Arthur especially. I'm not going to let that happen ever again. I can't risk it."

Kenna scowled and added, "Well you shouldn't treat me like I'm defenseless though Matt. I got Arthur to let go of me and stalled him just by calling him names."

Matt turned and replied, "I know, Kenna, I know. I saw everything, and even though I didn't really like that you had to resort to foul language like that, I am proud of you for thinking fast. But also remember you're still in the body of a young girl. And I know I can't be around to protect you all time, which is why I will sign you up for karate lessons to teach you about self-defense if that sort of situation crops up again."

Kenna wasn't totally sure if she should be comforted by that. On one hand, it felt nice to know Matt wasn't going to treat her like a defenseless baby, and was willing to sign her up for self-defense classes. On the other hand, it also felt a bit condescending that Matt was still dead set on acting like he had to protect her, like she was some precious artifact.

Of course, she knew why Matt did this.

Matt made a promise to his brother not to let what happened Alfred happen to Kenna herself. And everyone could see how much Matt still blamed himself for not being able to prevent that assault on Alfred.

It made her sometimes wonder if Matt really did resent her existence, deep, deep down inside.

She did agree agree completely with Matt on one thing though.

Arthur's "sorry" was not good enough.

Not good enough to make up for the pain he caused everyone, not good enough to make his horrible mistakes forgivable, not good enough to excuse his extreme stupidity.

Not good enough at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Arthur, you really dun fucked this one up. Now you're gonna just have to live with it.
> 
> This chapter was always a preplanned one, especially with the requirements of the original prompt. I really really despised how Arthur was characterized in the comic, and this whole chapter's essentially a "reality ensues" kind of thing (or at least a deconstruction of what the whole "Replacement Goldfish" trope).
> 
> As for Matt rejecting the apology, well, can't really blame him. The wound is still too raw for him, and Arthur's actions only give him less of a reason to trust him again. If Artie wasn't Matt's forgiveness, he's gonna have to step up to the plate big time.
> 
> As for Kenna, I kinda wanted to show the... less savory side of her and Matt's relationship, namely how he's so desperate to make up for what happened with Alfred that he nearly smothers her with protection. And Kenna understands why, but she is still trying to find her own way and becomes more independent.
> 
> Thanks for the views, likes and whatnot! I love all my readers! (kisses and hugs)


	7. The Second Stage: Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romano and Canada deal with their anger in very different ways...

_The second stage of grief is anger. After the initial denial has passed, the mourner is overcome with rage at their situation. This anger is directed at the perceived unfairness of it all, a rage against God, or fate, or the cosmos in general for their lot in life. And this anger threatens to burst through, and destroy everything in its path._

_But soon, that will come to pass._

* * *

Matt found working out was a decent outlet for his frustration. With his earbuds firmly placed in, he blasted the very heavy dubstep produced by Excision, an artist that came from the very country he embodied as loud as his ears could take it. He repeatedly hit the punching bag several times, and at some points, imagined either Arthur, Francis or one of the others' faces on it, beating it to a bloody pulp.

Suddenly Matt's alarm went off, signaling it was time to finish up. Matt let out one last punch, sending the bag swinging everywhere. He grabbed his stuff and ran off to the locker room for a quick shower and a change of clothes before he would return home for some desperately needed personal time with Kenna.

* * *

When Matt returned home, he noticed the smell of food from Domino's Pizza in the air. His nose was right when he saw a large box of partially eaten pepperoni pizza and one chocolate lava cake left behind for him in the kitchen. He felt a slight twitch of guilt; he really didn't want to get Kenna on any unhealthy habits, and the fact that she had to order delivery from home by herself made him feel bad that he couldn't be there to make and eat dinner with her like a proper caretaker should.

But he was so damn busy. And he hated every moment of it.

"Matt!" Kenna exclaimed happily as she ran up to him and hugged him tightly. Matt returned the embrace, smiling. It felt really good to know she was here and safe.

"How was work?" she asked.

"Oh you know, it was the same old thing. Did you order that pizza yourself, Kens?"

Kenna nodded and grabbed some slices for Matt to eat before saying, "Let's watch a movie, Matt. I miss doing those with you."

"Of course honey," Matt smiled as he accepted his plate. The two of them cleared off the sofa, and Matt turned the TV along with the X-Box 360, went over to Netflix and after much intense debate (Matt wanting to watch a comedy and Kenna wanting a cartoon), they settled on a Disney movie.

As soon as the movie was finished, Matt noticed Kenna was nodding off

Mat checked the clock and said, "Well missy, I think it's a bit past your bedtime, don't you think so?"

Kenna pouted but followed through anyway, since she was tired. After she washed her face, brushed her teeth and got into her pajamas, she was about to go to bed.

Before she got under the covers, she quickly said, "Matt, can I ask you something?"

"Go on ahead."

"Do you hate me?"

Matt's eyes became wide at this, and he felt several painful things hit him at once. A giant lump in his throat formed, his stomach lurched (and it took everything he had not to vomit), and the air in his lungs were almost punched right out of him by that question. He took a moment (or a few more) to compose himself before finding his voice.

"Kenna, why would you think that?" Matt asked her, almost demanding, as tears began to spring in his eyes.

Kenna was taken aback somewhat as she weakly answered, "Well that's the thing. I know you're taking care of me because you made a promise to Alfred."

Matt sighed and grabbed a chair, sitting by Kenna's bedside. He looked at his "little sister" right in the eyes and firmly replied, "Kenna, honey, I don't hate you at all. I don't blame you for Alfred's death or for what caused him to kill himself, and I don't hold anything against you for being his replacement. All the horrible things that happened are not your fault."

Kenna seemed to be eased by Matt's reassurance that he didn't hate her, but she still pressed, "But what about the fact that you feel like you could have prevented Alfred's death?"

Matt answered, "Look Kens, I will admit, I still wish I could've done things differently, if only because I wish Alfred never had to go through the pain he did. But that doesn't mean that I hate you or resent you. Like I said before, none of that stuff was your fault; it was Arthur, Francis, Kiku, Yao, Ivan, Ludwig, Gilbert, Feliciano and Lovino's fault this happened. I only wish that you didn't have to be saddled with Alfred's memories of what happened. No one, especially you, should ever have to put up with that."

"And what about your promise?"

"I did take you in at first because of the promise I made to Alfred. But it's not just that. I am here to take care of you because it's not just the right thing to do, but because I love you. I have seen what a great person you are, and I really do feel blessed to have you in my life right now, Kenna. And I am very sorry."

She was confused as she asked, "What do you mean you're sorry?"

He sighed again and said, "I'm sorry for ever giving you that impression. I know that I've often been angry, but that's only because I'm still grieving over Alfred's death. And I've been busy all the time, not for trying to avoid you, but only because I'm trying to do two things at once. But I should be preparing you for that stuff."

Matt's face then brightened up and he added, "You know what Kens? Starting this weekend, I'm going to cut some of my hours down. We're not hurting for money right now, and right now, looking after you and preparing you for your duties and responsibilities as the United States of America is what should take top priority. And I know you will do an amazing job, Kenna."

A smile spread across her face. "You'll do that for me?"

"Anything for you, Kenna. Except I'm still not getting you a flamethrower for your birthday," Matt answered, ruffling her hair playfully.

"Ack, Matt careful! I've been growing my hair longer; I don't want it to tangle up!" Kenna cried.

Matt just responded by tickling her and Kenna screamed and laughed at the same time, tickling Matt back as they got the heavy stuff out of their systems, feeling way better now. As Kenna yawned and started to drift off asleep, Matt tucked her in gently, smiling. He kissed her goodnight, turned off the lights and closed the door behind him.

As soon as he made it to his room, Matt couldn't help but let himself go. Tears of rage made their way down his face as several thoughts went over in his brain at once, so quickly that he couldn't get a hold on any of them. He took several deep breaths and made his way over to the dresser. In one of the drawers, he kept a single piece of paper buried under a layer of underwear and t-shirts.

It was Alfred's personal final letter to him.

Matt took the letter out, and began to read it.

_Dear Matt,_

_By the time you're reading this, I'll be on the other side, whatever it is._

_First off, I just want to say that I'm really sorry. About everything. I'm sorry I was such a lousy brother to you, and I'm sorry I always made your life miserable because I was such a stupid and selfish asshole. And I'm sorry because I know you're doing everything you can to help me, and I appreciate it, but I just can't get over this._

_And I'm especially sorry for what I just did._

_I know you'll probably want to avenge me or something like that, but please, just don't, okay? I'm really not worth it and I've already caused enough trouble when I was alive. I don't need to cause even more beyond the grave. Please, just leave them alone and don't put yourself or any other Nations through the trouble._

_And I know this is a bit cheesy, but I do have a last request. I hope it's not too much to ask for but I would like it if you promise this._

_If another personification of the USA comes into existence, look after him/her. Guide, protect and teach my successor, and don't let him or her screw up as badly as I did. I don't want what happened to me happen to anyone else, especially to whoever takes my place._

_Just do that, if it's not too much trouble for you._

_Thanks for everything. I know we never had a perfect relationship, but I couldn't have asked for a better brother than you, Matt._

_Thanks._

_I love you._

_Your brother,_

_Alfred_

Matt folded the letter back up and placed it back into the drawer. He took several deep breaths to steady himself as he walked out to the patio and lit up a cigarette. As he smoked, tears began rolling down his face. He really was doing everything he could. But sometimes, he felt like his best wasn't enough.

He couldn't protect his brother despite his bad feelings about that fateful "meeting" and he couldn't do anything to help Alfred recover from his trauma.

And he had almost failed Alfred yet again, as well as Kenna. He hadn't been there for her enough. How could he live up to his promise to Alfred when he wasn't there for Kenna and protect her and guide her? Hell, Arthur's kidnapping attempt was a testament to that.

Matt was angry. He knew it very well, and anyone that knew his situation would say he had every right to be. But Matt knew now that he had let his anger consume him, cloud his vision and blind him to what was most important.

Matt put out the cigarette, trying to resist the urge to light up another, but he failed. Matt hated how he was starting to chain-smoke nowadays, but he really desperately needed this. He needed to clear his head now.

One thing was for certain – Matt would not let his grief and anger rule over him anymore. If he had to, he would get a counselor. He had to be there for Kenna above all else. Not just protect and love her, but also prepare her for her responsibilities.

It wasn't just a promise for Alfred. It was also the fact that he really loved and cared for that girl with all his heart, and he would not fail her like he failed Alfred.

* * *

"Stupid, stupid stupid," Lovino grumbled to himself as he trudged on at his home. It was a very lovely place, right in the middle of the countryside that was about an hour long drive away from the city of Rome. The sun was warm and balanced out perfectly by the nice breeze blowing through, and the scenery was perfect. But Lovino found no joy to behold in those sights. He tried to eat some food earlier, but barely had the appetite for it. In fact, he barely had much of an appetite these days.

Why did Alfred have to do that anyway? It was just a simple punishment, a wake up call to make him get off his lazy ass and fix things already. And the dumbass was supposed to be thankful they didn't kill him or worse.

 _'Ah, but what could be worse than what you and the others did to him?'_  a very nasty, cruel voice in Lovino's mind asked him. _'What else could you have done that was worse than **raping**  him?'_

'SHUT UP!' Lovino yelled back at it, trying to make the voice stop taunting him. But the cruel voice just laughed maniacally, because it knew Lovino had nothing to argue against that.

The South Italy personification was sure he was going crazy. But at least he wasn't a moron like Arthur.

When news had reached everyone about Arthur's little failed kidnapping attempt on Kenna, everyone had choice words for the UK representative. Lovino for the most part wasn't worried about her; he knew that there was no way the real life version of the girl from his nightmare would be able to call upon legions of the undead and then send his soul to the afterlife of fire and brimstone torture.

And he really didn't care if she liked him or not.

 _'Keep telling yourself that, Lovi,'_  the voice quipped.

Maybe talking to someone else would make that damn voice in his head shut up. But who?

Lovino looked at his contacts list. The potato bastard Ludwig was way out of the question, as was Gilbert. He didn't feel like dealing with Kiku either; it was clear to everyone that he was in severe denial over Alfred's death up until seeing Kenna. Feliciano was also out of the question; his brother was nothing but a self-hating wreck these days and would only make his already rotten mood worse. Ivan was an absolute no. Yao and Francis were also out too.

His eyes then brushed over Antonio's number.

Antonio.

Ever since the other nations found out about that assault on Alfred, Antonio had taken it particularly hard. Not only did Antonio feel awful that Alfred, whom he did have a hand in discovering centuries ago pass away, but there was also the matter of Mercedes.

It was common knowledge that despite their arguments, Alfred and Mercedes were always pretty close, and though they weren't related by blood, they did consider each other siblings in a way. When she found out, Mercedes had pretty much marched into Lovino's home and really made an example of him. Antonio had to keep her from killing him , stating that what she was doing bordered on an act of war.

As a result, Mercedes bitterly gave up, but she was clearly still in a lot of pain. Everyone knew Antonio was her main support system nowadays.

And the matter of Antonio himself...

Lovino couldn't help himself though. Before he could bring himself to change his mind, he pressed the 'call' button on his phone and let it go through.

After a couple rings, he heard an answer.

"Lovino? What are you doing calling me?" Antonio's tone of voice was far from the warm and affectionate one Lovino was used to hearing.

Lovino tried nonetheless, replying, "Well, Antonio, look, I know it's been a while and you are mad about what happened, but please I just want to make things right between us."

Lovino's former caretaker and friend bitterly laughed on the other end. "Make things right? Mad at you? Lovino, do you even realize how stupid you sound right now?"

That was a shocker right there. Antonio was usually such a nice guy, and was always more of a lover than a fighter. He was barely a confrontational person, and rarely got angry. Before Lovino could try to talk again, Antonio harshly cut in again.

"Things can  _never_  be right between us ever again, Lovino. I am not just mad at you either; to be completely honest with you, I am absolutely furious and disappointed with you. Just what in the nine circles of Hell were you thinking on that day anyway?! Did you even once stop and  _think_  for a second about what you were doing?!"

Lovino was completely floored by this. When Antonio found out about the incident, he had initially looked ashamed and quietly went away without saying a word. Here, he was a raging storm, a hurricane about to destroy everything in its path.

Lovino nevertheless tried to respond, "I was just calling you because I was in a bad mood..."

"Oh boo-hoo, it's always about you, isn't it Lovino?! You are never happy, and you always feel like you have to drag everyone else down with you! Let me tell you a little revelation I've had - you see, the reason why people generally prefer your brother over you is not because you're less talented than him. You have your own strengths too Lovino, but you've never bothered to really explore and build upon them. No, the reason is because Feliciano goes out of his way to be nice, personable and warm. Sure, he's not the most assertive person out there, but he goes out of his way to make others comfortable to be around him and give a good impression."

Antonio angrily continued, " _You,_  on the other hand, seem to have it in for everyone! You always treat everyone like garbage and act like the whole world owes you something. You ever thought that maybe you could stand to be a bit nicer? I wonder at times, especially now, just what I did wrong in raising you."

Angered with the way Antonio was talking towards him, Lovino angrily fired back, "You want to know where you went wrong? I'll tell you! You went wrong by always favoring Feliciano over me! Even when we were kids, you always preferred him over me, and you were so blatant about it too! I never once got a break! You and Francis only wanted me for my inheritance I got from Grandpa Rome, and don't you deny it!"

Antonio seemed stunned silent for a second before apparently summoning his voice again. "I'll say this once Lovino - don't ever call me again. I will let you know also just how utterly disgusted and ashamed of you for what you did to Alfred. He certainly was a fool and made some mistakes, but he did not deserve any of the pain you and the others put him through. And that's not even getting to the pain you are putting his brother Matthew through, and to Mercedes, as well as little Kenna. And even more is how deeply you embarrassed me. Your actions reflect on me as well you know, Lovino."

Lovino immediately began to regret his outburst. He cried out, "Antonio, please, I'm sorry!"

"I'm not at all sorry to break it to you, Lovino, but you saying sorry in this case is just not good enough to make up for even half of the horrible things you have done. You have crossed the line and you have only yourself to blame for your own misery. Don't ever call me again Lovino. Not unless you have something important to tell me."

And then the line went dead. Lovino stared at his phone for a few seconds before anger began to overtake him. He at least had the self-restraint not to throw his phone at the wall, but that didn't stop him from punching the nearby wall. He immediately regretted that because his hand exploded with pain.

That clearly did not go well. Antonio made it clearer than day that he wasn't going to take another call from him. So now what?

First thing was first; he had to make sure his hand wasn't broken or bleeding. It was fine, so he left the house bitterly to maybe clear his head out and get some fresh air, even if everything around him just made him even angrier.

As Lovino walked, he took in the sights. Children playing under the watchful eyes of their grandparents while Mom and Dad were probably off working; tourists walking and holding hands happily as they took in the sights, smells and sounds around them with a sense of almost childlike wonder, architecture that had been around for decades, if not over a century now.

It had its own charm to it, and certainly could rival Venice's canals any day.

Maybe Antonio had a point. Maybe it was his attitude that was the problem...

"No!" Lovino growled angrily. He immediately realized he was also a bit loud and noticed some of the people around him stared at him strangely before going about their merry way, deciding they had more important things than look at someone talking to himself.

What did that idiot tomato stuffer know? He, of all nations, should be well aware of how bad things had gotten. It was supposed to be for the good of everyone. Alfred was just being a drama whore when he committed suicide; a spoiled wimp that didn't know what was good for him.

It drove him crazy that Antonio refused to see that, and it only made his blood boil more that Antonio was choosing to be on the side of Alfred's wimp brother Matt and that stupid bitch Mercedes.

The voices in his head only laughed harder at Lovino, taunting him. and nothing he could do would shut them up. They were pushing him closer to the brink...

And then, out of the corner of Lovino's eye, he spotted a church. A very old one that many tourists loved taking pictures of, but it was nevertheless a house of the Lord. Even if he rarely prayed, Lovino couldn't help but want to go in. That didn't quite soothe his anger or quiet the voices in his mind, but it did feel a bit comforting. A couple priests were cleaning around the place, sweeping the floors and scrubbing dust and dirt off the windows mostly.

Off at the corner was a confession booth. Lovino trudged over to it; he didn't quite know why, but his legs were somehow disconnected from his thoughts, automatically steering him there. Was this God's working?

There was a priest in the booth, and through the little window, Lovino could see he was an elderly man with thinning white hair and eyes that spoke of experience and a rich life. Lovino really didn't want to be here, but some strange compulsion drove him to this place, so he might as well try to go along with it.

"What brings you here, my boy?" the priest asked kindly.

Lovino replied, "Forgive me father, for I've sinned. Though to be honest, I'm not completely sure what brought me here. I just felt this compulsion to come here. I guess I just wanted someone to talk to."

"Well, today's been quite slow, though it's understandable; it's only Wednesday," the priest said, "so I have time to to talk for a while. I can tell just by the tone of your voice that something troubles you, young one."

Lovino had the good sense not to lambaste the priest for calling him 'young one'. It wouldn't be good for him. He just asked, "How did you know?"

"Trust me, I have been doing this sort of thing for a long, long time. You learn to pick up on those little things, the subtleties if you may. Listening to people, offering advice and doing your best to do the Lord's work is a fine way of sharpening that skill. So then, why don't you tell me what has been bothering you?"

Lovino took a deep breath and tried to figure out how to tell this priest what happened without getting into the weirder details. He quickly figured it out and replied, "Well, I knew this guy, Alfred. He was my friend for the most part, mostly just a friend of my other friends. But then, he made this mistake that hurt us all and well, we had to open his eyes up to his mistake. But then a few months after that, Alfred committed suicide, and in his suicide note, he blamed us for driving him to that. And after our other friends found out, they won't talk to us anymore; my best friend Antonio won't even talk to me. He even told me in our last conversation that he hates me."

The priest asked, "Is that what troubles you the most? That Antonio won't talk to you anymore?"

"Not just that," the South Italy personification replied, "but... what we did to Alfred was not that a big deal. I mean, the idiot made a stupid mistake and all we were trying to do was teach him a lesson! It's not my fault that he was a thin-skinned wimp that can't take any criticism. And Antonio refuses to see that."

The priest nodded his head in thought and was silent for a moment. He seemed like he was trying to figure out the right words to say. Finally he let it out.

"I get the feeling that you might be telling me everything, but that's okay; I think I have a good idea of what you're telling me, my son. And if you want my honest opinion, I think you might be the one that doesn't fully understand the true extent of whatever it is you did to Alfred. If what you did to him was enough to make Alfred lose the will to live and take away his own life, then perhaps maybe Antonio has every good reason to not want to talk to you anymore."

Lovino looked at the priest in shock and angrily asked, "Wait, you're taking their side? I thought it wasn't your place to judge!"

"You're right, it's not my place to judge; only God is the true judge of us all," the priest confirmed. "But that doesn't mean I can't offer you a word of advice, young one. I don't need to know whatever dirty details there are to your story, but know this: it is one thing to do bad acts, but another to not truly reflect on them and think about how your decisions and actions, the good and the bad, affect others. The Lord is forgiving, but even then, you can't expect Him to give it out on a silver platter, especially if you can't acknowledge whatever it is you did wrong."

The priest's words hit a chord with Lovino, and that was what frightened him the most. He wasn't sure if the old man meant to do so, but his words really got under Lovino's skin.

And the worst part was, he couldn't stop it. Lovino quickly left the church, not even trying to say goodbye to the priest.

As he ran home, Lovino tried to block it out. Several vivid images started going through Lovino's mind. Memories, happy and sad, flashed before him. But most especially images of The Incident and the aftermath of it were the ones that hit the hardest.

He was standing in that dark cold room, which reeked of sex, sweat and a sharpie marker. And at the center of it was Alfred, covered in blood and semen, curled up in fetal position and softly sobbing. Lovino and the others just simply left him like this to be found by Matt.

And then that day Mercedes confronted him...

_"How could you, Lovino!?" Mercedes screamed angrily. "How could you violate him and let him die?!"_

_Lovino looked at her as if she was insane, all the while nursing his hurting cheek. Not only had she slapped him, but her sharp and long fingernails scratched hard enough into his skin to scrape it off._

_"It's not my fault, you crazy bitch!"_

_"Gilipollas! Pendejo! You killed Alfred, you piece of shit! You killed him, and you won't even apologize for it! You are a disgrace!" Mercedes cried out, sobbing as Antonio tried to hold her back from really hurting Lovino._

_Mercedes angrily wrenched herself out of Antonio's grasp, but surprisingly, she didn't beat Lovino to a bloody pulp like everyone expected her to. She just simply glared at both Lovino and Antonio silently, before growling and running away, sobbing even harder._

_Lovino looked at Antonio, and (unaware he was doing it all) put on "that face" for him. It was a sympathetic look of sad, soulful eyes turned toward Heaven and a tragic expression that said he wasn't at fault; life was hard and unfair, and he shouldn't be blamed for lashing out._

_But it didn't fly with Antonio. The Spaniard simply looked at his former charge/little brother figure and only sighed with disappointment before turning around and walking away to see to Mercedes._

'Why me? Why does this have to happen?' Lovino thought to himself as he tried to fight off the guilt and the cruel voices that only got louder in his mind.

Finally, when he was home, Lovino slumped against the wall, not sure what to do now.

It didn't last long.

He screamed in rage, pain and other emotions, thrashing wildly without a care in the world. Nothing in his house was safe from Lovino's wrath. Plates, glasses, decorations, furniture; all thrown all over the place in a storm of built up fury.

"WHY?!" Lovino screamed up at the sky. "Why did you have to go, you asshole?! Why couldn't you just take your stupid lesson like a man?"

Upon receiving no answer, Lovino angrily kicked a hole right into the wall. He didn't even care that his foot was now hurting. It didn't match the pain of the realization that was now finally hitting him.

Nothing ever went well for Lovino. His grandfather always blatantly favored Feliciano over him, Antonio and Francis only wanted him for his inheritance, and everyone always preferred Feliciano over him. And then that stupid moron Alfred ruined the economy, and when they tried to teach him a lesson, he killed himself. Even Mercedes and Antonio were willing to give Feliciano a little more leeway for his involvement in The Incident than for Lovino.

His life was nothing but a series of unfortunate disasters...

And it was all his own fault.

Lovino sobbed, feeling the full weight of Antonio and the priest's words sink into him. He always blamed everyone else for his misfortunes, and never even once took even an inkling of responsibility for his own actions.

He was a horrible brother to Feliciano, a horrible friend to everyone else.

"I'm just an all around horrible person," Lovino grumbled under his breath. "Why doesn't God just smite me right here and make everyone else happier by getting rid of me?"

'No Lovino, you aren't horrible.'

A voice, very different from the rest, rang in his ear. Lovino's throat was still choked up with sobs and his vision blurry from crying so much. Hearing voices in one's own head was a clear indication of insanity...

'You're not insane Lovino. You know me. Don't you recognize me?'

The South Italy personification looked around and ironically enough one object escaped his carnage - a single small figurine of a young girl in saintly robes. He walked towards it and felt the life and warmth radiating from it. It was so comforting; more than he deserved really, but he couldn't help himself. He could feel her within the figurine especially well.

"Little Maria? Is it really you?"

'Yes Lovino, it is me. It's been quite a long time since we've last spoken.'

Lovino grumbled, "Yeah. Why even start now, especially after what I did?"

Maria replied, 'Because, I've quite frankly seen enough. Punishing yourself is not part of the road to redemption.'

Lovino huffed and rolled his eyes. "Could've fooled me. Besides, everyone else has been punishing me for centuries. What more harm can come from me?"

Maria sighed and said, 'Lovino, contrary to what you believe, there  _are_  people who care about you in this world. Yes, you drove them away, but you can earn their love and friendship back by doing what is necessary.'

"Do what though? It doesn't make any sense!"

'Maybe it doesn't make any sense to you now, but in time, you will know what must be done to regain Antonio's trust, and maybe even the friendship of Kenna.'

"But how? Just what am I supposed to do, Maria?!" he desperately asked her, grabbing the statue, pleading for answers. If he really could get Antonio's friendship back like Maria was saying, then he needed to know. Why was she being all cryptic like this anyway?

Maria's voice, though still gentle and angelic, was firm as she replied, 'It's not my place to tell you what to do, Lovino. That's for you to figure out for yourself, when the time comes. I'm sorry, but I can't help you any further than this.'

Horror dawned upon him. "Wait, what?! Are you leaving now?"

'Sadly Lovino, yes, I do have to go now. I can't stay here much longer. It was only because of my desire to help you that I was even able to cross the barriers between the realm of Heaven and Earth.'

"NO!" Lovino pleaded desperately, "Don't go! Please, Maria, I need your help! I can't do this on my own! Don't go!"

Though the facial features on the figurine didn't change, Lovino could feel the sadness radiating from it, from Maria's spirit. She didn't want to go either.

'I'm sorry Lovino. I wish we could talk more, and I wish I could give you some more advice, but I can't. You need to learn it yourself; I can't hold your hand for you,' she said with regret. The light and warmth radiating from the tiny statue was slowly becoming dimmer by the second.

All the Southern Italy brother could do now was sob. He knew it was too late, but he couldn't help it. He choked out, "Maria, please, don't go..."

'I can't stay here any longer. But remember my words Lovino, and don't be afraid. I know you can do it. Goodbye.'

And just like that, Maria was gone, leaving the cold empty void to take over once again.

Lovino almost wanted to give into his rage again, but something prevented him from doing that. Was it Maria herself, or him?

Lovino didn't know. He at least knew one thing for sure now - he couldn't let his anger control him anymore.

But what else was he supposed to do? Sure, Maria told him he could get Antonio and his old friends back, but how? She didn't give him any clues or hints, nowhere to start off from, nothing.

How was he going to do this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a new chapter after an eternity of waiting!
> 
> Not really sure what to say on this chapter. It's what it is - a study of anger as a part of grief.
> 
> Mercedes is my Mexico-tan OC, who will be a big part of the Side Stories. For those wondering why Matt didn't call Mercedes first with Ukraine and Hungary to introduce her to Kenna, that will be explained in the "side stories". If anyone has any suggestions for things I should explain/include in the side stories that I didn't go into detail here, leave your suggestions in your review or PM me if you wish! :)
> 
> (Also, I would really love it if anyone offers to help out as a beta-reader, because I would appreciate the help in writing out Gilbert and Feliciano's sections. PM me if you're interested!)
> 
> Boy, writing Antonio calling Lovino out was a cathartic piece for me. About time someone called Lovino out on his "woe is me/victim complex" attitude.
> 
> And yes, Canada listens to dubstep. Admittedly, that's just Author Appeal on my part. As bad as American pop stars can be, they'll never quite be as ear-grating, annoying and just plain awful as Canadian pop stars. Canadian dubstep is darned good though.
> 
> And the "Maria" that Lovino talks to towards the end is Maria Goretti. Look her up, because she is a pretty awesome girl. As for her being nicer and more lenient, well, the girl wasn't canonized as a saint for nothing. Lovi will take her advice to heart, but it would require a lot of growing up on his part, which is about the last thing from his mind because Lovino still can't quite let go of his self-centered attitude. It will take him several years of struggle for sure.
> 
> Leave a review and let me know what you loved, hated, were neutral about, and what you'd like to see next! Love you all!


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